Give one good reason why I shouldn't end it all.

Aujourd'hui, j'ai écrit une lettre à Mémé.

Shivers. Bursts of Laughter. Tears. Stress. Kisses. Complicity. Desire. Heartbeats. Loving Words. Hugs. Poems. Romanticism. Holding Hands. Joyful Times. Serenity. Worries. Dreams... *

Une journée à marquer d'un tampon de censure. Ou pas. Une escapade parisienne avec une personne qui vous est chère, il n'est rien de plus beau. Surtout avec elle. Evidemment, entre les échanges de chaussures et les heures de marche pour retrouver son chemin, il y a eu un café glacé, un Pepsi max (bien que l'on ait commandé un Coca-Cola), un peu de fast-food, et des cadeaux pour Nadège, ainsi qu'un petit parfum suggestif. Vient ensuite un genre de soirée pyjama entre filles (n'est-ce pas, Thomas?) qui manquait cruellement de photos. Malheuràvous.
Une excellente journée, une soirée mémorable, une nuit sympathique, somme toute.

'It seemed that a very frozen wind coming from Siberia had just invaded the classroom at this moment, and in the mean time, the abysses of my heart. And there I was, sitting behind a table, dilapidated by the students' inexistant attention, and looking at him as if there was nothing around but him. I was sure that I would have been able to draw exactly the wonderful features of his oval shaped-face, for watching them every second that allowed me to. His skin was as white, as pale and as delicate as a porcelain work. So breakable, and as soft as a peach. The color of his almond shaped-eyes was like a wolf's and did not seem to really exist at all. His glance, circled by unobstrusive black glasses, was full of a scouring, poignant melancholy, and sometimes even of dreadful sadness. If your eyes had crossed his, you would have felt the very strange, odd sensation of the very depth of your heart burning into furious and dancing flames, making it drum so hard and so fast that you would have thought it would explode. His hair was as smooth and as dark as polished ebony. Besides, he had the strange but lovable mania to always touch it. His sweet lips were as thin as his mind was refined, and were of a beautiful rose button-pink. His silhouette was very slender and made him look so fragile that you would not have wanted to touch him by the fear of breaking him.' Oh my God, I love him so. Kill me now...

Je pose un ©Copyright sur ce texte, car je l'ai rédigé moi-même dans son intégralité.
'This love is killing me but you're the only one.' Citation de Daughtry (It's Not Over).
Citation du titre par Evanescence (My Immortal).

Il n'y a pas grand chose à dire sur ma personne, il me semble. Malheureux ou non, je vous laisse choisir. Ce dont je suis sûre, c'est que je prends ici un nouveau départ, mais je ne vous demande pas d'oublier le passé. Juste de ne pas le regarder. Il n'aimerait pas cela. Oui, même le temps a sa pudeur. Une personne compte pour moi, sur ses petits doigts. Et moi j'aime, j'aime, j'aime. Un bon début de chanson, il faut croire. Il ne manquerait plus que la mélodie, sauf que ce n'est pas dans mes cordes, cette fois. Je ne parlerai certainement pas de mes vues sur la vie et sur ceux qui en font partie. Cela prendrait des pages, et me ferait perdre du temps. Aucune utilité, somme toute. Autre chose : 'Je suis peut-être grande gueule, mais point stupide.'