"You've got the parisian accent!" Go to fuck yourself, Touraine's people, fucking farmers MOUAHAHA, we'll always be stupid and sounds awesome and sick! RHAHAHA.

Drunk, high, stone. Fucking feel good after this bad. Breathing. I have a bit of MD left. Speeeeeeeeeed pleeeeease. I try to control what I want. NO, you don't need this shit, you don't need this shit, you don't need this fucking good SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP. SHUT THE FUCK UP! Ok, Everything is better. I don't care anything except these good times I can get. With or without you, I fucking don't give any shit about EVERYTHING. Nobody can ruin that, I'm living. LIVIN, I dare to try. I need to meet you and YOU and YOU and YOU AS WELL. Met D., M., M. and D, being silly, to socialize a bit. "Are you lesbian, are you together?" "Fuck you Dude!" To be alone inside is true and unchangeable. But to have X or Y around, to have your smiles, to get your hugs, your good moods, everything. Why have I been so blind? FFS, no prices, I enjoy so much now. Spent a fucking good night, drank nothing, so sober. But it was as cool as possible. OMFG. RHAA. I want more and more, I want to drown myself in meetings, drugs, social life, poor or rich, deep or superficial, psyche or not. DMT my friend, go for it and run, run. Let's make our experiences, let's go for it.

I'm coming from the dark but RHAAA. All the symptoms are worst and worst with years. She was probably right the day she said "bipolaire,mon enfant". HAHA, contrôle, laisser-aller, contrôle, laisser-aller. BIG CLAP in your FUCKING HEAD. Mais rhaaaaaaq. Make me not thinking, again and again, let me forget and let's run. Lachons la bride et courrons dans les murs, marchons sur les abeilles, et enculons les habitudes, les mortitudes. Soyons fous, soyons ailleurs. Guys and girls, THANKS A LOT. 

Few times a day. Every day. Eat eateateateat. 
Falling again. More and more. No control.
Dry skin. Scared hand.  Neck and chicks. 
Marks, mask, lie, leak, weak. Acid, acid, acid.
Psycho or not psycho? Borderline?
Antidepressants? Painting? 
Too many questions. 

Combats verbaux vains, destructeurs et inutiles. L'alcool les rend de plus en plus violents. Dans une demesure improbable du genre: "I drink because of you". Cette merde en fait dire de plus belles. Il est temps de calmer le jeu, d'eteindre le feu ardent de cette putain de decadence. Hier encore, comme d'habitude, le silence etait ma reponse. Il debitait tout d'une traite, decousu. Puis, ma resistance a disparu, repondre avec la meme rage, plus sarcastique et ironique parce que le brouhaha des lamentations m'empechait de dormir et que ma patience s'amenuisait. Le sommeil est si salvateur, si doux, une fuite de la realite. Apres 5 minutes d'explications, j'ai capitule sur les landes des harangues blessantes, j'ai laisse le silence reprendre sa place. Ce n'est definitivement pas ma tasse de the de hausser le ton pour si peu d'enjeux. Il a fini par l'avouer lui-meme au milieu de la nuit et fondre en larmes et en excuses. Encore. Je ne sais pas combien de temps ce cirque va restait en place.

Alors que maintenant je me noie dans ce nouveau projet. Je vais voir en grand, me lancer, ne plus hesiter et commencer avant meme l'emmenagement, car c'est actuellement mon seul exutoire, ma seule issue de secours dans cette impasse dangeureuse.

Elle a dit 45kg, 1m545, suite de l'episode demain.
J'ai cauchemarde pendant deux heures apres la dispute. Elle mourrait sous mes yeux, et j'etais impuissante. Le second reve, le meme, m'a permis de la sauver, mes parents se marriaient et j'avais un chalet a la montagne. Je ne l'analyserai pas.


 

Je suis putain d'associal. C'est le début de la fin. Zola a raison, et en plus il ignorait l'histoire de toutes ces chicks. Qu'ils aillent tous crever en enfer. Il va falloir suivre et se contenir. Il va falloir tenir et se retenir. Et surtout, il va falloir être fort en résistance. Il me faut des grandes toiles, et des putains à dessiner, des filles avec des guitares, des rangeos et des ceintures cloutées. Je retombe dans le féminisme de merde, le riot grrl à la con. J'ai 16 ans, encore. 

Laments and jeremiads. I hate him and his inanities. He asks too much, exercices of translation. I don't really care your cocktails and can't see the ins and outs. Be precise, let me know or leave me alone. I wanted to give him the gate. Need my mum, not this kind of dummy father you try to be. Care about your own kids, we'll see what we can deal together afterward. I'm hard, I know. We are talking the same language, aren't we? To unit all the family to look like these beautiful models presented in the stupid series you watch on friday nights. He already pissed me off, and not exactly actually, because of the funny way I took it. Nice intentions, you wanna look like a savior, defending the weak and the oppressed. "the widow and the orphin" We are not. I don't want to spend loads of time I haven't just for your tomfooleries. Praise yourself to the skies if you want, I've fun behind my screen. And I can already ear her saying we smoke too much and we should eat more. Just shup up. Both.

But ok, I accept to come back for his birthday, which should be near my quarter. And I'll see my sister. Party time, to get smashed. Again. Haha. 5 years left. It makes me happy, I should enjoy more because life is short. HAHAhahaha. My unlimited insanity is incredible, I like it.

No logic. Macabre crazyness. Jump jumpjumpjumpjump. Everything was as a single word. Runrunrunrunrunrun. You are dreary and bleak you said? I am playing, falling. Uneven, unable to enjoy something. Saved by a fucking silly job. Why are you talking about it? WHY WHY WHY? I enjoyed the morbid numbers, and I still do. Seclusion. I can see them even without. Manipulation, i don't give a shit. If you know too much, you'll be killed with a plastic spoon. I give me a month. Fast. And you'll say what you want, you can. Nothing, you understand? Nothing. A dangerous method as well, without Freud and his bullshits, the Coué's one. Fucking more efficient than all moanings and lachrymal threnodies. Selfmanipulation, self conviction, self persuasion. Self belief. Selfishness, that's the way. We are alone. We are fine.

The P's tattoo is fine now. I should have use these needles before. Re-order news supplies. To finish today. Find what to do and pick. Had a chat with Ju., LD and T. and feel the wind of friendship. Funny scatophony with LD. The artist at the Cube. Tonight or never. Should call T. he wanted to see it. Lots of blah blah. Buy some credit at the ATM. Distant World Final Fantazy OST interpreted by The Royal PhilHarmonic Concert Orchestra in London in november and UK Subs at the Fleece in may. Promises.


 

The visual dictionary. Here, this little spread is a whitewater. Lots of rocks, rafting with rowing oars. Have you got enought fun? Sounded like if everyone had to have a decisive conversation with me. My hand is a shitty concept. I closed my eyes, opened a book, breathe beathe breathe. Go away. Leave me alone. Seriously killing me. Then I'm playing, flying, anywhere else, nowhere. Full of fire. Hot, uncontrolable. Void. Screaming inside, losing the voice. Deliring, shaking. I bought a paquet of cigarets. 

En terre en glaise. Is it over? I don't want to anymore. 

Huff huff, kuff kuff. Kut with a cnife. Poor life of wife. Out comes the wolf.  Wolfes. A lonely wolwes has been in the present tomorow. Or maybe yesterday it/she/he will. Kill the kuff, huff. Tooooooo much. tou meutch. The question. Is she? Mark of strangulations on her neck. Second time. Not a lovely game. Her face behing the smiling mask. So shy, so reseresereser ved. Erased.  TELL ME THE TRUTH! Slowly, analyzing all the clues, the fragments of memory. Remind. Who can she talk to? "You've got a boyfriend?" Brother? THIS guy, the nice C.? "It depends" "I prefer girls, there are nicer" Hum. hum huf huf. Kuff kuff, kut. It questions my brain. 

Escape. No no, say so, say o sau no. Drug, acta. Durg grid drug. Fingers as butterfingers. It's hard hurd hurt hard drug gum grumf. I can see your futur in your past. HAHA. Ca faisait longtemps ages ago. Amonthwithoutany sMasheD thoughs in the smoke. Smog, smug smurf muf muf huff huff. 

Putain, ça me prend la tête. Ca ne sonne plus, pas d'enchainement. The fastfood de l'enfer, se cramer la cervelle, controler l'exces et sous-rire, sourire. Hypocrisie. Quit this application. Un souriceau. DO YOU UNDERSTAND. DO YOU DO YOU. Frantic piffles, wiffle. Flouncing, these dismal knots. Whinge with bleating squeals. Spearing a fosting lapping from the larkiness. Smallow, desperatification. Anticlimax and antiparoxysm. Shaft? Well. Do not cross the line. GAP. Stop thinking. Rope.  

 

And I don't understand anything cause I'm stupid. Don't ask, just don't ask! To sit on a pink sofa. In a old market. Question. Butch, femme, this kind of slang. Choice. CHOICE. CHOICE. Am I wrong? Is it just an appeal? I am fucking lost. Fucking lost. Doublé chuchoté. When I see them, my head turn out. Spliff. Why I haven't rolled? Forget these bollocks and your angryness. You failed. Again, AGAIN? Better? I hate winter. In a manner of speaking, new wave. Everything's right. My brain is off, my eyes opened. My body and my instinct want a girl. A GIRL.

HALEIGGLCECKUEEGQKEFC and I'm becoming mad because of for where why I fuck ponctuation I fucking don't care and stop watching on me like a burned synagogue threesome no way what wah how how how explain me please please please to meet you have a fucking beautiful face and you drive me crazy crazy FFS what's thaAAAAaaat fuck hormones buy dildos play me hard and putain de ta mère vas-dis moi où trouver ça ça ça pour je sais pas je prends le risque de tout détruire tout détruire encore et encore parce que je ne sais faire que ça. Mais tu te rends compte dans l'état das lequel tu te mets pour des meufs ? Des meufs, quoi ! De quoi te détruire la gueule.

Mais rhaaaaaaAAAA. Etre délibérément hétéro, c'est tellement confortable. Ma cervelle se traine dans la boue en hésitant. Mais qu'est ce que tu fous, t'as 20 piges, c'est le moment de vivre ta vie, de te taper des trips, de partir loin, d'aller de l'avant, de tester tout et n'importe quoi. D'être complètement mad, d'acquérir de l'expérience, de faire des rencontres, de baiser. BAISER LA VIE. Tout ne tient qu'à un putain de fil. J'ai même pas le cran d'ouvrir un tiroir pour prendre une paire de ciseaux. Mais bordel. Dieu que je me hais. 

And to talk about is not enought Kochanie. I don't care about porn, I don't care about hentaï or bdsm. I don't care, let's be an open couple. Trust us, fuck these stupid rules, fuck who you want, I fucking need a girl. And you can smile, that's just killing me. Is there anyone able to understand me? Come back Chou, don't be shy and let's have fun in a bed. Benefits. It doesn't matter. 

PUTAIN, je deviens désespérément folle. Une ado, une putain d'ado. 


 

I jumped over the mirror. I'd seen my reflection winking the crack in the dark. Have a look on the book. Sooth smooth smoke shut up my shot mouth. My 1001st personnality answered by a creamy stream of screams. Broahahaha, don't want to see none of them. At the end, flowing in that foul fuel.
I wanna die right now. Cause I can't listen those extravagances anymore and not able to write that I can't say. Poor littlecuteanddangerous you, the only thing to to relieve you is taking a gum and chewing. So miserably, fees of tiny thin fun. 

Silly to assess a year. Anyway, nearly the anniversary of the leaving, coming. Depends of your point of view. Relief? Comfort? Notions quite hard to tell apart actually. Discovering. Living, not thinking and being egoist. Just HUUUGE change. Lost yourself a bit more to find the way. Crazy way, let your mouth opened and not contain your fury anymore. That's new. You came blank as a virgin and now? Now look at you, you look like Dorian Gray. Let's paint. Let people make an image of you, who cares who you are, when even you don't know it anymore?- and say what you fucking think when necessary. 24 years of silent rebellion, THAT has been crazy. Incredible, stupide. To live in the frustration of your "unspokeness". Smiling face, being nice, helpfull, kind. GNAGNAGNA. BLABLA. I am, I wanna be. A bitch. Tick the right answer.   

Anyway, everything is revolved. I probably needed a cut, an abrupt change. To advance and assert myself, even if I hate these fit of temper, anger and other words finishing by -er.  I make me laught in front of the confusion, moody and impulsive. And I hate myelf. Action vs reaction. Intolerance, and lack of understanding, impatience. I'm becoming exactly that I hate in human race. But I feel better.

Ass kicker, he said.
My pleasure, I answered. 

Should be wrong to say "I'm not a fucking sucker" Cause NO NO NO. Nice pear, pice near or whatever. STUPID. Anyway, smile and enjoy. Fantastic weekend, surprising, high. Realized who are your friends and who are "less". Change of depth. Sad but true. So immature observation. Can't say I've been waiting for another answer, cause everyone is always alone in this monumental slapstick comedy. AloneandaloneandaloneandaloneAND ALONE. Impossible to talk about essential things. Have to cure it, becoming a real problem. Or not. Actually, if you face to the reality, nothing's changed. You're still a pawn on a chessboard.  Second line fucking you, hierarchy, dry. You're still doing nothing, you're still shuting up. Contrast and paradoxe. I'm everyting and nothing, so wrong and grapoeibcqjqd. It looks so negative, but I feel so good! SO GOOD! I got you. Pampampam 

Even so, I should be careful. Bitter review stating that lots of foods disappeared of my life and portions increased. Cause of aliments, money, brain, lazyness? JUNKFOOD. Nevermind, now I've some HNY postcards waiting to be written.