Room 107.

Plus que quelques heures.

Jusqu’alors je quittais une période démente pour une période merdique, j’étais comme suspendue entre le passé et l’avenir sans pouvoir foutre les pieds sur Terre et profiter du présent. Ou alors quand j’avais vécu un truc lourd je passais mon temps à le regretter du coup je perdais mon temps. C’est fini. Depuis quelques jours je suis tout ce que j’ai été depuis le début. Je suis portée par tous les lieux que j’ai vus, qui m'ont dessiné et comprimé le cœur. J’ai même plus peur de pas revivre ces moments qui quand j’y repense ont quelque chose de complètement surréaliste. Ils sont derrière mais pas partis, je les ai quelque part dans la poche, sur les phalanges ou le long de la gorge. J’y pense plus que rarement : le temps d’un quart de seconde je me rends compte de ce que je suis et j’en chialerais tellement je suis devenue à la fois si légère et si lourde. Et finalement je m’en fous, je suis passée dans une autre dimension, éjectée hors du monde.

Ce qui se présente à mon esprit, de façon récurrente, l'image du scarabée qu'on noyait en lançant des pierres, le long du canal. Le vide sous moi. L'odeur âcre et métallique de la rambarde hérissée de pointes, que je serrais contre moi, parce que c'était l'empalement ou la chute. Tu me regardais.

Je voudrais planter ma tente dans le futur. Et qu'on s'y cache. Qu'on perde notre temps à regarder la pluie froide s'abattre: calmes, confiants, parce qu'après la pluie.

I won't wait for you. I'll wait with you.




[Note à moi-même:]

I'll be safe, now.

You don't see me either.

You're like the others.

You don't wanna know, you don't wanna see. You assume and you judge. You don't love, you don't understand, you forget all about me, about us. I've been by your side during five years, without flinching, without doubting you were the one. You don't see that. You don't see I came back because I still believe, because I though you were the only one that could see right through me. You're pushing me away, you believe I'm low, you despise me because I did what you did. And it's all wrong. It's all wrong because I'm not you, so it's something disgusting, something in me, in my nature, I'm like that, and "hey, don't worry, I'm not mad, it's normal for someone like you." What we did was no excuse. I don't plan to live like that. I'm not like that.

I'm fierce. I'm faithful. I believe in being devoted to someone. I was devoted to you. And then you treated me as if I had the soul of a whore. You gave yourself away as well, in the past. Perhaps you don't see it. I see it. And I know it's not the way it's supposed to be. The way you are. And I don't forgive you. I won't say that it's nothing, thinking you'll forgive me as well. I don't plan to live like that. I'm not like the others. And still, in your head, I became the classic girl with the classic moves, you expect nothing great from me anymore. But I'm not classic.

And I'm not lying. I don't hide things from you even if I know it's gonna drive you mad. You know every little thing. And still you don't want to see me. Still you don't trust me. Still you don't trust me enough to tell me everything. I don't want us to be like other couples, suspicious and dead. I want you to know everything.

By the way, she just called to tell us there was another file competing for the appartment.

So, I'm letting it go for today. I just wanted to feel that you loved me. I thought I could be happy. But you were right, I'm not strong enough.

I feel so lost. I'd like to start fresh, erase all the lingering crap and see things beautiful again. I feel like anything I say is turning into a giant cataclysm that takes away the few good things left. I feel like anything I dream about is never going to turn real. My hopes are not even in this world anymore. Nothing is good or simple. I wish I could count on them to make me feel alive, but it's like they don't care. They run away from me, cutting me out, they don't want to handle my unsteadyness, yet I handled theirs. All this is so unfair. It makes me feel unwanted. It makes me feel the bad guy when I say it out loud. It makes me feel like a monster. It makes me want to die. I wish I could die. I wish I could die.

Widowed.

Startings and endings.

J'espère que je ne vais pas me perdre idiotement encore dans ce dédale d'intentions obscures. Je fuis le simple et le serein, je me laisse glisser dans le délicat, et je laisse l'autre s'emparer de moi, me tordre comme un jouet. M'oublier dans le décor lorsqu'il se détourne du monde extérieur, comme dégoûté par lui et moi. Me jeter contre les murs, le cœur en premier lorsqu'il n'est plus sûr de rien, sentir ma poitrine craquer sous l'impact et ma volonté exploser, par ennui. "Non, ce n'est pas de ta faute, mais rien n'éclate aussi bien que ton cœur, mon amour."

Je voudrais de la norme et de la constance, tout en sachant que je ne pourrais pas vivre ainsi, aucun de nous n'y survivrait. Il a toujours fallu que je sois loin mais pas trop, proche mais pas trop, moi mais pas trop.

You don't seem to be very happy when you're trying to make me happy.