The show must go on.
I just can't give up the fight. I know it's bad, but this time, i'll try to be smarter and wiser. And, most of all, more careful. I know i can't help talking about me. But i need to play smart this time, or else i'll hurt other people. This is a space for me to let my thoughts run free. I feel like it's a diary and, in a strange way, i like the fact that other people can read it. But i just don't want people that i really know to read it. I know they'll be disappointed and that they won't understand. I'm sad that i lost all the stuffs i wrote. But at the moment, it just made more sense for me to just get rid of it all. As if i got rid of some evidence the police may find. I feel so guilty. I talked to a friend who told me to stop writing a blog, that it was the wisest thing to do.


Mais je ne suis pas sage. Si je l'étais, ça se saurait.

So today, i felt like shit while walking in the neighbourhood, afraid of meeting people that i hurted. I'm not a bad person. I'm even quite a nice girl when you get to know me and i really enjoy helping people. But people never get to know me. So I went to visit the flat where my parents are supposed to live next year. The ceiling is very high, there are huge windows and the view on Paris is terrific. There is also a very nice roof-terrace where i intend to go, in order to do some sunbathing while reading. It's so calm there and the view of all the roofs is surreal, it doesn't even look like Paris.
I saw my ex's ex in a magazine. So yeah she's a model. She's skinny, with the whitest skin you've ever seen, with a strange face, dark hair and a bang like every girl in Paris.
I don't know if i should cut my hair and get my bang back in order to fit in more.
The weather's way too hot to have a bang. But fashion is fashion. And i feel lost without mine. I don't even recognize myself without it. Just like i didn't recognize my face when i died my hair brown.
I really don't feel like i'm making the most of life right now. I'm not doing anything useful. And nothing entertaining either. I would like to move out my stuffs but my brother still has all his stuffs in the flat where i'm supposed to go live. I tried to talk about it but everyone just acts as if it was normal and that i should stay with my parents forever. Maybe i'll move out when i'll turn fifty. But then i won't have any sex life. I don't feel like mine has been very fulfilling lately. But who knows, it may get better, it's summer time, people are horny. But right now i feel like i need some austerity. And austere doesn't mean dull, look at Balenciaga's clothes.

It's a bit late now, i should get going.

It is not, nor cannot come, to any good.
But break, my heart, for i must hold my tongue.