jeu d'enfant

The more French I learn, the more I am amused...

An exercise in editing...

I think I may have ruined him by giving him a face

you've stolen my sleep, but I'm not sure I want it back - I loved it too much to imagine it could be as good the second time, My thoughts have fled till I can't form a sentence in french no more -> I only regret connecting thoughts - connecting across this world so grand, Funny how a squeaky pen can say more than 'I love you', But I've falsely discovered the source => discovered that I'm lost & that I don't care, that I'd rather wander down this endless track than stop for a minute to plant a seed, Chez moi=>chez moi? it's a phrase I don't connaîs no more, Mine is not a static existence=>nothing can wait till I'm 30, I will be 20 forever forever. Forever

in this perpetually pensive state - once drawn, never penned.

Counting down the days...

ahhhhh...I really think I have ADD. I can never focus on one idea. My plans for the future are so widespread and diverse, that one minute I am really excited about a new internship opportunity, etc, and the next minute I am searching online for reality shows to audition for. I mean, I want to do everything! But I only have so many years to do them in. I can't imagine giving up any of my plans, either. And the fulfillment of each would drastically change my life in a different way. gahhhh...where's dr. phil when I need him? Or maybe just a career counselor...too bad they don't have those in France.

je me suis perdue

In trying to rediscover my voice, I've found that I'm not even sure what my voice is.

I've got too many layers of paint to chip off, and I don't know if I even want to - aren't I happy? That's what I tell myself every day, so I must be, right? I've created myself like a sim, just enough of this, that, and the other, just enough so that no one can Not Love Me. It feels real, it feels false, but if it's not me, then I'm just lost.

et il pleut

Sometimes I forget how much I love sitting around with friends on a rainy day.