I'M SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING!

I've been so busy with school, applications, life and music… I haven't had much time to go on the computer and really dedicate time to type up a chapter.

Another thing—as I have been reading around the internet and such, there is a new pairing: Cake. So then in my mind, I'm trying to figure out if my readers are Cake or Eclare fans now… I'm still going to write about Eclare, I might add some sprinkles of Cake (I don't know yet, just saying for now)… but whatever happens in the show, if something explodes or whatever, it's always going to be Eclare in this story. Okay? Okay.

Onto the story!

-x-

Eli POV:

After talking (no, more like interrogating, but who cares?) with the doctors, I found out that Clare is going home with her mother. They told me that she will be safer at home than with me.

I don't trust them. I don't trust anyone. Not anymore.

I can't function. My writing sucks, my feelings are knotted up and I can hardly breathe. Not when Clare looks so… sick.

Sick, pale and dead.

Have you seen her eyes? They're no longer bright. Her lips are no longer pink. Her skin is pale. Her hair is dead. She's no longer vivacious. She can't say anything more than five words at a time.

But that's all right. It's all right. I couldn't care less.

I still love her.

I will admit that at the beginning, I thought of Clare as an object, something I can use to waste the time away (when did I ever think that? That was a mistake). But now it's serious.

It gets serious right here, right now.

-x-

I sit there at The Dot with my coffee in tow. Black coffee.

I imagine Clare sitting across from me. Hazelnut coffee with skim milk (she says she can only drink decaf, but I never order decaf for her.), and a blueberry muffin.

I imagine a stack of novels and notebooks on the table, and our laughing while discussing how Twilight is considered to be authentic and good writing. She agrees to a certain extent, and I notice her eyes glimmer when she starts talking about Edward Cullen. Her cheeks get rosy when discussing vampire romance, and I remember why I fell in love with her.

Actually, I can't remember why I fell in love with her. There is no word or phrase to explain it. It was just a feeling, a hunch in the back of my head telling me to go for it headfirst. And that's what I did.

It started off as a hunch. Huh, I always imagined it to be more than that.

But it is more than that. Does anyone understand what I'm talking about?

Can anyone really understand? How does one describe love in its truest form?

I sigh and look at my coffee. Still black. I look across the table. Still empty.

-x-

It's cold outside. I hope Clare is wearing her warmest coat. Maybe a hat too. Does she wear hats? I bet she would look really nice with a hat.

Walking across the street to Morty, I see lots of bystanders trying to figure out why a giant black hearse is parked on the street.

I grin. Those people are stupid. They're all stupid.

They're nothing more than the norm.

Why should society dictate what is 'proper' to drive? It's proper enough to drive a hearse. Why should people give me strange looks when they see me next to Morty?

Everyone… except for Clare.

She was shocked at first, but she got used to the idea that I drive Morty. She didn't panic or scream. She smiled. She smiled at me. Me and only me.

If I could have a photograph of that particular moment, I would. I absolutely would.

-x-

Seconds feel like minutes, minutes feel like hours, hours feel like days, days feel like years, years feel like decades and decades feel like centuries.

At this particular moment anyways.

I can't do homework (since when do I even do homework? Oh wait, since Clare told me.), I can't write, I can't read, I just sit there with my cell phone next to me waiting for a ring.

One damn ring. Right now. Any minute now. Any second now.

My thought process isn't even working properly. Everything is coming off as being really choppy. My thoughts aren't cohesive anymore. (In fact, they might not be until Clare is happy again)

I stand up and punch the wall. I can hear my mother asking me if I'm all right.

No, I'm not all right. I'll never be all right.

Not until I hear her voice once more.

Please… Please…

That's all I ask for.

Clare.

Clare Edwards.

Can you hear me?

Please tell me you can.

Please tell me you can hear me.

Please understand.

I love you.

-x-

Yup, so here's another Eli sprinkle!

Let me know what you think—I hope that my loyal readers are still loyal! Even after this very long hiatus. I promise that I will try to update sooner. I really do.

What's your definition of love? Eli can't seem to find it. Let me know in the reviews what you think love is, and what love should be for Eli.

I understand that there's little to no actual dialogue going on in the last couple chapters, but we're pretty much getting a sense of the surroundings, context and their feelings to what's going on. Clare is too sick to talk and Eli is too sick to live properly.

I bet there are typos or grammar issues in here. I'm just writing this as quickly as I can so I can update. Later, I'll go back and revise it. What is important right now is that you guys get new installments of I'm Me.

Let me know what you think, and let me know what you think is going to happen/any tips! Thanks to all those who put me as their favorite author, I'm Me as their favorite story, and those who put me on their alerts! I'm so happy to know that people still really do like this story.