I write in French and English, about all kinds of things. You stranger, are now closer to me than my everyday acquaintances. Welcome.
Would you like some honesty . I feel like a fair amount of drunk honesty would do our relationship some good. 1. ” you can’t treat me like this. I am not your little bitch. Respect me. ” BULLSHIT.
Three o'clock in the morning. You don't even know why you're still awake. And suddenly, deep inside, something, triggered a few days ago, pushes the carefully installed dominos of your personality.
For years you fight. Against everyone. Every moment, every situation is a battlefield.
"When you love someone, but it goes to waste Could it be worse?" - Coldplay, Fix You I had been waiting for this message for hours.
You know what the worst part is . The worst part about this whole "messed up couple" we make is that now, after that conversation we had, I know that you know it too. Know what .
Just found this piece of poetry in a notebook. Written 4 years ago by myself, for French class.
Et si Romeo n'avait jamais existé . Et si un jour Juliette avait compris qu'il n'y aurait jamais rien mais le néant, le vide .
Il pleut. Une pluie de débris de vers tombe doucement sur le cuir craquant des univers.
I don't want a mediocre life.
Feelings are weird, very weird. Sometimes hating someone is so much easier than loving that same person..
After a certain moment, I will start blaming loving you for how much it hurts. And I will hate you for what you are, a stone-hearted jerk who toyed with my emotions. And I don't want this.
Se trouver au milieu du néant, c'est ce qu'il y a de mieux dans la vie. Qui n'aime pas être seule au milieu d'une foule.
Your beauty didn't suffice. To save you from the thunder. Your lover, cold as ice. Put you six feet under. Leaving your loved ones. You became a beast. Letting blood blind your eyes.
"Only to the Queen will I deliver my message . Let me go . Let me talk to her !" screamed the stranger outside.
The green eyes gazed at me, piercing and cold. Hesitating and terrified, I ran for my life, hoping to find a window or a door or a window in the pitch black room we were in.