De tout, de rien et parfois du linge sale lavé en public.
Confessions et tribulations d'une fille qui avait 18 ans lors du premier billet.
Un défouloir comme il n'y en a pas d'autre.

For those who speaks English some articles are translated.
They are all ordered under the section "ENGLISH". Enjoy!

vendredi 17 février 2012

I'm the bad cop

Let face it, I'm clinically mad.
I've done something I'm not proud of. Something bad that can destroy a person completely. So I do confess... I had fallen in love.

Now that this relationship is over, I'm loosing myself along the way. I had started to get better recently and everything has to be redo since I've seen him again last weekend.
I only wish it would have work, yes really. Boyfriends that I had before were nothing but he was my lover. I don't know if he has ever understood that he was my number one (after myself, course). Was I too impatient? Sure, point taken.

It's a bit like when I try a piece of cloth. If it suits me, if it's what I need then I don't hesitate I just take it and love it. So I had chosen him, but I was for him a very cheap piece of cloth form Primark, the kind that you keep a year and throw in a bin. I suppose it's a very offended comparison people aren't clothes, it was only to make it easy to explain.
That's probably one of my biggest negativities. When I love someone, I really do love this person. I don't lie, I don't play, I just love. It just hurts so much when you realise that you spend a year and a half with someone who doesn't consider love like you do, when you have wasted so much time, and let yourself being injured so deeply. I so hate you.

He's happy, he said it. I wish he could be crying his mum 24/7 that would perhaps make me feel better because that's what I'm up to. My head is going funny... I can't understand... I want him back.. I want to kill him... Delete, delete all these numerical memories... I would give up everything for him... You can't he's an arsehole...

I don't want to fall in love never again. Every time I'm blowing it up, anyway. And I hate men. They said they love you but it doesn't mean what you think it means. First, if you're lucky, your man will love you better than football but it's not certain. Then, men know perfectly that these little words will make you: cook for them, sort out, clean and iron their clothes for them... and they are damn right.


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