The Fighter in Me


I’ve been a waste of space lately. Let’s be honest; this isn’t an overstatement. A piece of shit. My demons have gotten me really down and I’ve been a lazy leech just feeding on nothingness.

I got down and I stayed down, figured “hey, I’ll just bury my head in the ground for a few decades, no big deal” because I just couldn’t take this life so I just tried my best to ignore the fact that I exist. I was having an existential crisis and I just couldn’t be bothered to actually deal with it or with any of the storm’s bullshit so I just looked away.

However, yesterday (which is now two days ago) as I got out of the bus (I took the wrong one) and walked (while texting my anxiety away, narrating my stupidity to my bff) in a haste (I was late) to my therapist’s office (what a pretty messy morning, I swear), I heard a tiny *click* coming from the back of my head. As I raised my eyebrows and my eyes grew to be the size of the moon, I realized something.

Somehow all this early morning anxiety and lack of sleep had managed to trigger the right switch and unlocked a tiny little door from which came a revelation. I didn’t have much time to actually even begin to touch it with the tip of a finger that day because I was so tired. When I got back home, just slipped on my good ol’ depressed pants and trustworthy “what’s the point” shirt and faded to black once more.

But today; I mean, yesterday (what is time, I ask, what is TIME), I was getting really excited about going outside to explore a nearby place which I pass by when I take (the right) bus to see my therapist (who’s actually a nurse??). So, as I waited for the sun to just stop being so sunny so I could step out and do the adventure thing without burning to my death, I actually had time to let the revelation sink in. And just as I was ready to walk out the door, I had to jump on a piece of paper and pen to scribble all the words that just rained on me as it suddenly hit me and I saw it.

I saw the fighter in me.

I’ve been hiding, running away and just bathing in denial, forcing myself to ignore pretty much all that there is to life. I had completely given up on trying and was looking very seriously into giving up on everything and settling for a life into the nothingness. And yet, even as I, on the surface, was giving up, it was here in me and still doing its job. The fighter in me, that part that just doesn’t know how to give up and always fights for my life, even when I feel that I’ve indeed given up.

When I sat at my desk that morning the day following the *click*, I realized that, even though if not as intensely as I was supposed to, I indeed thought about those things that I was trying so hard not to think about while I was “wasting my days away”.

I was convinced that I had managed to give up for once and that I truly was on my way to that impossible reality where I don’t bother nor believe in dreams, light and a greater use of my time on beautiful Mother Earth. I truly thought that I had manage to kill all the light left inside of me and to be honest, I was actually happy about it. Because, let’s face it, this whole existence and fighting against the current to do things that you love and be a bigger “you” it’s just so exhausting and frustrating; so, managing to give up was actually a relief.

Now I wouldn’t have to worry about energy. I could be tired all the time and it wouldn’t matter because nothing would matter anymore. I could just bathe in darkness all year long and just lie on the floor, wait for the lightning to strike me and put an end to the joke. Nothing mattered. I had succeeded in taking away all of the anxiety triggers, all the problems, all the overthinking, all the horribly demanding efforts to go against the storm to do all those things and also all the good stuff like love and vegetables.

I don’t wanna be a musician, an artist with four arms that do all these different things and doesn’t suck at them. I want to be a mashed potato without seasoning and extra extra extra cheese and a nice side dish of “nope; I don’t life”.

I FUCKING WISHED RIGHT?

Turns out that I was right when I thought that it was truly impossible for me to give up and that time I said that even when I was giving up, I wasn’t. I just didn’t know HOW RIGHT I was.

I tried my best to keep my mind busy and not think about real questions and about me. I managed to satisfy the apathetic monster inside, feed him all the junk it wanted and become it BUT in the mean time, I also managed to keep fighting in the right direction in a way! Of course, it wasn’t a super effective fighting as there was so little of me involved in the war which is why the *click* took so long to happen. But it was still fighting.

I fed the monster and let it invade the foreground so that I could find a place inside where it was calm, oh so calm, and I could actually think of my life without any parasite.

My choice of distraction could have actually given it away that I was truly just finding a less direct and brutal way to face those questions. And it did. But just after the *click*. I realized that the things I was obsessing over in order not to deal with an overwhelming life, decisions to be made and that crazy wish of living life were, deep down, helping me think exactly about what I was running from.

The fighter in me, the part of me, the spark, that will never stop fighting against the coldest winds that assault me or that I will willingly let in to freeze my soul. That part that, even when reduced to such a tiny size and beaten up, can still stand up for me and what I believe in and resurface, always, and shush the monsters back to their dark corners. (For a while at least, just enough time for the soldiers to get back to their positions and protect that fragile soul)

Now, I haven’t completely gotten rid of the filth that I smeared all over my weak flesh prison. But I’ve been feeling that spark and it’s slowly melting the grime away and bringing some heat back in the main circuits. The fighter is swimming back up. Ha ha! And well, now my laughs don’t just sound like a sound that I send to bounce against the walls and fill up the room with some “nothing wrong here” vibes. I feel less dead. And ready to put myself back on track again.

“You live and then you die, what’s the point anyways, right?” That just doesn’t sound like me. Now, I don’t know if it’s depression or any other part of the storm and I don’t care. I know it’s not me. I don’t think this truly. I’m a stupid child and I believe that there’s more to life than slowly dying as oxygen poisons us. I believe in love and in making dreams come true. And I believe in light in the darkest places. And I BELIEVE.

I might be a fatalist to some extent but I’m what I like to think of as an absurdity, a convention of paradoxes. I always find myself at both extremes at the same time. I’m a fatalist but also an optimistic and a pessimistic and a believer and a skeptic son of a blurp. I’m everything and nothing. But I’m not a person that gives up or one that doesn’t see the magic and beauty in life and beyond.

And now that I’ve slapped myself in the face several times and am slowly waking up from a dead man’s sleep, I can see it again. These words that I spoke, thought, while I was this unseasoned mashed potato (Ha ha, I’m sorry x) I’m almost done, bear with me! :-p ) weren’t mine. I don’t know which demon spoke them but they weren’t mine.

The fighter in me is a real part of me. Those demons and the storm are also a part of me but they don’t define me. They are not me. They are what I believe to be essential parts of the weather in me, the rain that rocks me in bed and make rainbows possible. (You need ups and you need downs, light and darkness; there needs to be a balance in things, this isn’t a happy fairyland where all is well.)

They are parasites but I need them and I cling to them. I need them here but they aren’t part of my identity, they are just these little dark monsters that keep this universe running.  But I am not by any means them. I am not the embodiment of my disorders and, as much as they affect my everyday life and constantly torture me, they are not part of my identity. I consider them parts of me in a way, part of my universe but not me.

Anyways. It’s going to take me a few days to truly get back on my feet and get rid of the bullshit I’m covered in. But I’m getting back up and that’s what matters in the end. I think I actually really needed this time on the floor and horribly dark fake happy days! It’s funny I guess in a way haha

So, I think that’s it. I’m glad I finally managed to get all these thoughts out of my head! I started writing this at 1AM today (which explains the confusion with time at the start of it! 😉 ) and now it’s 6PM. No, I wasn’t writing all this time! I slept and I’m still having very slow days. Recovery is a process and honestly, I was really on the floor so it takes some time to get back up and this time longer than what I’m used to. But yeah, I’m finally done getting it out of my chest and I can actually even more internalize the information now. It feels great.

I’ll end this post on a quote from Fran Bow ( a video game I obsessed over during my little “holiday”, let’s call it this from now on!). I don’t remember which character said it but I’m pretty sure it came from the journal that she found somewhere Idk. I think it’s really fitting with this post and well, off I go fixing myself up!

I don’t need to hide from pain anymore because it’s part of me.

Love is everywhere and in everything.

I enjoy crying.

I enjoy laughing.

I enjoy being alive.

Until next post, don’t lose yourself and keep looking for the light. It’s always there. Even the tiniest spark is enough to keep you going. There’s always light, somewhere, look around, in someone, in something, in the sky, anywhere, anyone, anything. And if you don’t see any light, then maybe think about opening your eyes? Maybe you don’t see because you’re not looking at it the right way. Or maybe you are the light and it’s hard to see yourself shining as you stand in the dark.

Keep running. ❤

P.S.: I, of course, still haven’t re-organized my blog and the categories are still pretty messy. But I’ll get to it eventually, don’t worry! And also, the little walk I had in the “park” that I discovered near where I’m staying was truly refreshing. There were so many ducks and I found two cats that let me pet them and aw, man, I felt really good out there! And I’m planning on going there again, maybe making a point of going every Sunday or so. 😀

worry flood


None of my worries is the least of my worries.

All my worries are on the top shelf and constantly flooding my mind.

I’m replaying everything in my head all the time.

From the tiniest detail, like that time I knocked over two plates of colored beads in kindergarten and had to stay during recess to clean up my mess.

To really heavier ones, like that time I made my mother cry.

In fact, when I say “tiniest detail”, I don’t mean it from my point of view. I mean it from most people’s, I guess. For me, all of these are as big as the other though I can make the difference between bigger ones.

They’re replaying in my mind most of the day. All the while I’m busy worrying about now and what’s next; what once was is always there, what happened haunts me all day long.

Sometimes not and I feel lightweight and I feel like I can go on and be reckless again and feel fine.

But then it comes again, at any random fucking hour of the day and it doesn’t stop. Not until I’ve collapsed under the weight of how my teacher called me out for daydreaming back when I was 7.

Everything sticks with me forever and I can’t just scrap it like a gum on the sole of my shoe. The darkness haunts me forever. I have all these creepy bugs with their small legs carefully buried in my scalp and there doesn’t go a day they aren’t hungry for some brain goo.

And when my mind obsesses over something good, how does that turn out, you ask? Well, it eventually figures out a way to darken the scene and have the prettiest flowers smell like rotten meat.

I hope I’m not my only friend because it seems I don’t want me to be happy. And fighting against myself sometimes just seem so pointless. I’m all I have, so why should I wage war upon me?

This endless worry flood has me sailing away on a self-destructive path. And I go with the flow.

All this dead water that infiltrates my lungs has such a bittersweet taste that I can’t even begin to think of letting go of.

This familiar taste, I could fight till the end.

But maybe I don’t want to win.

Maybe I just want it to flood me, just like that, and drown.

Because there is nothing sweeter than defeat and surrender to the storm.


I tried to work on Uncage’s next chapter tonight but I just couldn’t do it. My mind was too busy. And, look what I managed to vomit onto my keyboard. Isn’t it wonderful? Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts. Images. Words.

Getting a tank full of fuel.


(WARNING: There’s more than two pictures of my face in this post what)

You know how some things you just know to be true and don’t need no proof or anything? Well, that’s one of those things.

I’ve always known that music is what drives me and fuels me. I was making up my own (embarassing) songs as soon as I knew how to talk. Just ask my mom, she loves telling these stories. :-p It’s always been there. I’ve always known.

I’ve always known that music was what I intended to devote myself to but with school and fear and just, being young and not really knowing better, I denied it. I used to tell it only to my mom and sisters that I wanted to sing. But as I grew up, I gave up the idea. Not because I lost interest in music (how could that happen?) but because, even that young,

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Here’s a young me… 8? 10? Idek

I realized that this wasn’t what people wanted to hear. And also, I truly feared the way others would look at me for choosing the crazy path and the questions they would ask. I didn’t want to be questionned, and judged, and mocked… I dreaded it, so I just gave in and shut up.

Instead, I decided that I would say that I want to be a teacher. I would lie so they would be happy but it wouldn’t change how I felt inside. And well, at some point, I actually had completely given up the idea; victim to my own game. I wanted to be a vet. I still sang everyday while doing my homework but that’s it. Then, obvisouly, it popped right back out like it should.

Still, when it came back to me I kept avoiding it. “Subtly” fleeing from what I can’t escape, my true nature. I made plans that on the surface, and the way I’d explain them, sounded kind of coherent, but really were just me hiding because I was terrified. And actually, those plans only sounded coherent to me because I wanted to believe they were. Because, honestly, if you go to someone that tells you “I love music and I want to be a singer. So, right now I’m studying drama and next year I’ll be going to college to study Hebrew (which I did not end up doing) and no, I’m not doing anything music-related on the side”, you don’t think that makes any kind of sense, do you?

I was just running because this is a scary thing to want and also a very big thing and I’m so tiny. I would just create these excuses of plans and say to myself that they would actually benefit me in some ways and even if not directly affect my musicianship, at least teach me about life. Well, I wasn’t so wrong about that; I’ve had my fair share of life lessons. But what I was stupid to do was put the one thing I actually want on the side, like a simple hobby, and put all these other things in the foreground. Not only was it stupid because, well, it’s my main goal but also because that actually forced me in places where I didn’t belong and brought me more misery than I already create on my own.

I forced myself into these spots and just drained the energy from me, struggling to survive in environments where I just couldn’t fully bloom. It also was really challenging my patience as I’d always end up counting the days before that segment of hell would end by the first to second week of it. I’d then just remain in the waiting room. Waiting for this stupid choice to be over so I can move on to something else. And then I’d make another stupid decision which eventually lead us to now.

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Love my blue lipstick btw

This past year, I’ve been feeling overwhelmed with that “done” feeling. Done with waiting. Done with the hiding. I want it and I want it now. Except that I’m actually stuck here for three more months now as I just can’t get out of a stupid decision like this. So, what I’m filled with is more frustration as I now have this growing will and need to do all it takes to be better and become the me that I want but am stuck here.

I’m older now and I’ve finally completely given in to my own desires. I’ve always known but now I am ready to fight for it. Because I see that there is truly nothing else that I want this much. This is who I want to be and I can’t change it. No more hiding. I’ve been feeling a lot better and confident since I decided to put an end to that bullshit and it’s awesome. 😀

As much as everything seem to be crumbling around me lately, I know that things are just falling into place. Destroy to rebuild or something. It’s just making way for something better, something bigger. I’ve had people walk out of my life and tough times, and new decisions, and it’s all just making way for something better; my brighter dark. I’ve finally gotten myself to run in the right direction and that’s cool. Running is all I do, but now I can sleep soundly knowing that I’m actually aiming at what matters.

I’ve always known but I just needed to get slapped in the face. I needed a reminder, not a proof. I needed fuel for my fire that I so subtly murdered. And so far, this month has been full of it, and it’s just the start of it all…

The music still resonates in my soul.

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In the most comfy bed ever (in which I didn’t sleep)

I saw Avenged Sevenfold (+ Chevelle & Disturbed ❤ ) which you can read about here if you haven’t/want to. It exceeded all my expectations and surprised in more ways that I could have imagined. It awoke things in me and filled me up with some nice energy.

I felt a lot of things and understood a lot of things that night. I belonged there, in that crowd, in the dark, out there, where the music is. Seeing these dudes on stage and all these souls in the crowd, it was beyond magical and more than a wake up call, it was fuel and a proof.

Beyond the headache and the ringing in my ears that haunted me all day after it was over, it’s the feeling it left me with. Ever since I walked out of the venue, I’ve been feeling different. I saw my heroes IRL and one of them hugged me; guess it was the best slap in the face I ever got. Sure, that was amazing and I’ll never forget. But the real important thing that happened in me is that I deeply realized that I am right. This is who I want to be. This is where I want to be. It just washed away any doubt and any negative fear I had. All that’s left now is fuel.

Also, last Thursday I had my first voice lesson! I wasn’t anxious at all as I was still very high from the show and it went amazing. I mean, it was a first lesson so a lot of talking and just getting to know each other. When it came to the singing I tensed up a lot and wasn’t able to sing Ain’t It Fun so I ended up singing Girl Crush (Little Big Town, although I’ll admit that I prefer Halestorm’s version over the original :3 ) and it felt better. I was still tensing up but a little less as I didn’t have to go so high or anything and eventually relaxed a bit. But yeah, it was a first time so I didn’t exactly go all-in because I need a little time to be okay with a new person! 😛

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pre 1st-voice-lesson selfie

This lesson was true fuel too. The teacher is amazing. She’s really nice and gosh I loved it when she sang to me because she has such control and everything is there (like it should! x) ). Ha ha! And she told me something that boosted my confidence. Sure, there’s a lot of work to do here, especially when it comes to the tensing up and also the open-your-goddamn-mouth-Chloë part. But she said she saw real potential for power and that I had really nice voice, a nice tone. And, well, it felt really good. It’s not the first time that someone tells me this. I’ve been told before that I do sing well and so on, just never from an actual professional and with these specific words, you know? It meant a lot and I’m really excited for the next lesson, which will be on the 16th. This only “confirmed” my hope if I may say that I can be a better singer and only gave me more hope for my future!

I don’t know if I’m going to keep working on Girl Crush or if I’ll find another song. But what I know is that I really can’t wait to go back and explore and let go and just, climb that next step!

Also, I’ve been considering actually NOT buying a guitar… I know, it sounds crazy to me too… But I actually only have three months left here in Lille, then I’ll be back home in July and a bit of August where there will be a guitar (right-handed one, but it’ll do) and then when I’m back I’ll have to get ready to leave for Ireland. So I thought, I could just keep saving the money and buy it later, once I’m in Ireland maybe. That way, I can focus on the voice lessons and I will be travelling lighter. Not saying it’s set in stone yet, but I’ve been considering it; a lot.

So yeah. March has always been a pretty shitty month for me but this year, it’s the one that is bringing the wind of change. Tomorrow I will be meeting Kim in Paris and this is going to be awesome too! I’ll probably have a few pics to share on Insta or maybe even on here. 🙂

I’m really thankful for what is happening to me. The wake up calls, the pain, the tears, the people leaving, the BRIAN HUGGED ME, everything, really. It’s all just been so real. Not all 17156130_1379521202115285_2889068106658481903_nrainbows and butterflies but amazing nonetheless. These past four weeks have been more eventful than my three years of college put together. That show fueled me real good and just made all the pains and bullshit I’ve bathed in these last six years seem so little. I’ve been having real hard times too but really, I’m just not afraid anymore. Not afraid of hurting and not afraid of becoming who I want to. This is all been amazing and I really hope I will keep making the best out of this month! I’m making my own path cos my shoes were too big for the ones already paved. 😉

Here’s to all the joy that is to come, all the things that I’m alive to feel, more fuel to my fire. I’m just getting started. ❤

Pain is a color and I’m a rainbow.


Darkness isn’t necessarily black. It is not colors that I lack but a darker shade of black; or maybe a bottle of Jack; or stronger bones in my back…

I wanted to make this a poem but it seems the shaking in my mind cannot handle structured writing, so I will have to let it be whatever it decides to be. I will let my fingers type these confused thoughts of mine and stain my white keyboard with the poisonned ink that leaks through my broken nails. Ain’t that just the way it always goes anyways? I am nothing more than the puppet of my own thoughts.

I’ve been thinking about darkness, as in the spots that cover my heart and soul; the pain, the silent wounds, the invisible scars, the bright crevasses. And again, my brain has sewed another fancy disguise for my bleeding soul from the tasteless word-stew that simmers forever in the back of my mouth. Because this blood never lingers on my flesh and shimmers better than when I hum these word-stuffed melodies. I can watch it dance and rejoice as I praise it with my dark poetry, the only music I can create.

Darkness isn’t necessarily black. I can tell because when I look inside, I can see the colorful polka dots adorning my soul.

My best friend used to call me her rainbow, I have lost track of her reason why, but today I have found my own. If I’m a rainbow, pain is a color and my thoughts are artists. And, of course, I’m holding the bigger brush and when I’m not poking my eyes with it, I paint the biggest patches of colors and take care of any needed touch-ups.

My heart is the color of the sky, a blue that gets deeper at night when my soul is an ocean where demons can’t drown.

My hands are the color of fire, a red that gets deeper when I wrap them around my neck tight enough to shut me up.

And my green-tinted smiles they’re here to hide my rotten faith and hopes.

My head is a mess right now. I was already dealing with the storm’s unexpected come-back and now I have all these doubts and whatnots coming uninvited to the party. The place is too crowded, it’s hard to breathe and I’m losing sleep again, and weight, and strength, and hope, and faith. But, believe it or not, I somehow am in better shape than usual. I mean, I’m a mess and this is very heavy to carry around. But I still feel like I’m handling it better than ever before. But maybe that’s just another illusion.

I’m glad I got that out. I had these few lines lying around for a while now and I just had to get them out. They’ll remain here for now. Maybe they will later find home in a poem or a song, if I ever birth one of these again.

And let me just add that, as much as this sounds dramatic, too dark or whatever you wanna call it, I’m a very positive person. Don’t get me wrong, I ooze darkness and cold coffee; but I still shine, even when I shine dark. I might even be the most optimistic person I’ve met so far. I mean, if you trim all the excessive use of words, the dark tone and all the dramatic poetry, there’s light here! Not because I admit and often emphasize the ugly and darkness of certain things (mostly me) doesn’t mean I don’t see the beautiful. I actually, sadly(there it is again!…), see it everywhere.

I don’t like being called a pessimistic or a fatalist or whatever things you people can come up with, because I’m not. I see the light and the beauty in places you would never even think of looking, and I don’t give up even when I do; so shut up with your labels that don’t even fit. And to quote that Paramore song, “For a Pessimistic, I’m Pretty Optimistic“.

Cherish your pets while you have them and water your plants. ❤

I hate phone calls (but I love me)


As I type this, it’s all faded a bit but today (well yesterday now that it’s already one am) I was filled with pride and was pretty much high on it. I made a very important phone call . Let me repeat that. I made a call. I call my mom, sister and best friend pretty often so what’s the deal, right? Well, I don’t really know but fear of phone calls is an actual thing! It took me two hours but I did it. I’m still not sure how.

I tried pep talk, I tried to Schmidt my way out of it (usually it works!), music, breathing exercises, counting to three, running to the phone; NOTHING. Really. No matter how much I tried to explain to myself how important it was and how it was only going to bring good and how it was necessary and not so scary, I just couldn’t do it. I’m guessing I managed out of exhaustion. Like it tend to happens often. But anyways, what matters is that I did it!

I called for voice lessons. That young lady was so nice and damn, as soon as she picked up I felt better. Usually it’s more about the anticipation than the actual thing. I think there’s like a ten-second rule or so. Like you know you gotta do something, but if you let too much time fly between the moment you know you’ve got to and the moment you do it, you leave room for overthinking and it can just ruin everything. I know that very well but sometimes I just slip? 😛 Maybe that’s just how it works for me though, I don’t know. But usually, when I make a phone call, I just gotta go quick and click the damn button, then there’s no turning back and I usually manage the conversation. But if I just stop for a second, I get trap in a web of thoughts and my energy is slowly drained by imaginary spiders and it gets harder and harder to do it…

So, I’ll be having my first ever singing lesson on March 2nd. Why so far? Because I didn’t realize that there is a school break happening very soon and they don’t work during these breaks; so there’s only room then. That’s actually kind of cool co it leaves me time to think of which song(s) I’ll bring to work around. And it is also pretty much the most awesome day ever because it is only TWO DAYS after the Avenged Sevenfold show I’m going to on Feb 28th! I’m really excited because this is just the start of it all. I’m going to make so many more things happen and just seeing start happening before my eyes like that it’s… It feels good! It just feels good, man! 😀

I was really proud of myself. For having managed to call even after two hours of light self-torture. But also because I’m taking steps forward and really getting serious at building my own path. I’m really happy right now.

I’ve got a lot of things to be excited about. A lot of things to work on. There’s just the whole world in front of me. I feel kind of “new”? Like, I can see again. I feel very good and ready. I’m terrified. I am! But I’m just so thrilled about this whole journey. I feel fresh. I feel better. I feel strong again. Able again. Free, lightweight, fearless, terrified, galvanized, de-emptied, creative, everything at once and so little of nothing. That’s a change, right? I almost forgot how it felt. Taking my life. Taking back myself and my everending possibilities.

A dark soul, still. But with a bag full of candles and fuel leaking out of my veins through my fingertips. And I’ve finally took one candle out of the bag and lit it up. Now watch me walk till I run till I fall then run again.

Darkness means light. ❤

I like raw


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I’m supposed to be working on several things to try and save what can still be saved of this semester, so it’s only natural that my keyboard and shirt are both covered in charcoal. 😛

I’ve been “at it” for three days now and I still haven’t actually started the damn essay. I also have to study for a whole bunch of tests but I’d like to pretend I don’t have to for now please  Really hard to focus, for a change, but the good thing is that I’m feeling better and I’ve managed to do something I like! Sure, it was mostly fueled by the frustration of having to do something I literally have zero interest in doing but that’s still something!

I love Winnie the Pooh. I always have and I ALWAYS WILL! Nothing can replace this bear and his friends in my heart. They can cheer me up like even my favorite bands and ice cream can’t! Right now, I have at least 10 things in my room that have Winnie or the full team on. And back home, in Reunion Island, my bedroom walls are probably still covered in Winnie the Pooh special birthday paper plates (fyi, I didn’t do that, my mom did but I love it :-p !). Anyways so, when I grabbed my sketchbook and charcoal sticks without thinking, the first thing I saw was Winnie having a picnic with Tigger and Piglet and so I drew.

I’m really happy with the result, really. It was a bit rushed and I was trying to remember what I had read a month ago about ways to use charcoal. I’m still very new to it but I think that’s really great. It doesn’t look like a finished product but I don’t mind it. I’m learning to let go, move on. I can be quite a perfectionnist sometimes (Oh, don’t you mean ALWAYS?!) and it’s not always necessary. Sometimes, it’s okay to just leave a first draft like that and move on to something else. I’m learning to be okay with not having to finish something for it to a finished product.

Meaning and beauty can still be found there. And sometimes actually, with being so desperate for a finished, smooth, complete “product”, you end up taking away these two crucial elements. How many times have I butchered what was a really interesting project because I kept feeling that need to smooth out the edges, work more on that color, add a little more details?! I sincerely can’t count them. I’m not saying that it always is bad to do that. What I’m saying is that I need to learn to know when to stop working on a piece and move to the next.

Art doesn’t have to be perfect. And neither do I.

I still have to write that damn essay though… :-/ Wish me luck!

And be brave out there, strive for that imperfect perfection. Keep it raw; embrace the flaws! ❤

P.S.: did I mention that I’m a bit sick? Makes it harder to wanna write that essay 😦 Here’s an awesome quote from an amazing artist to end this post on a brighter note:

Stay beautiful, keep it ugly.

-Gerard Way

One night out.


The lights hurt me; the sounds do too. Everything hurts. I hide behind my hands. It’s not enough to calm me down. It’s not enough to protect me. It’s merely a shelter through which I can still feel all the bombs being dropped from the sky.

I’m not shaking. My breathing isn’t heavy. It’s all inside. I’m paralyzed. This is nothing, I say to myself. I’m not even shaking, this is stupid, I say. Why don’t you move? Why? But I just can’t. I want to cry. I’m mad at myself for being so weak. I’m mad at myself for being sick while my body isn’t showing any signs. I’m not shaking. I feel stupid. I feel selfish and useless. You’re full of shit, Chloë. I recall what he told me. I’m making all this up. I’m full of shit. I’m selfish and hurting everyone else. I’m sick. A mess.

My hands are glued to my forehead, like a small roof infusing my eyes with a light darkness. I can’t move. If I move I won’t be fine. I find a semblance of comfort and safety in this position. My body wouldn’t respond anyways, would it? If I try to move I’ll fall, won’t I? If I don’t see them, they don’t exist therefore they can’t see me and I can be fine.

I want to cry. I just want to go home. I want to hide. I need silence and the comfort of my bed to relive this moment over and over in my head and torture myself. I don’t want to be here anymore. But I don’t want to move. To get out, I’ll have to take my hands away from my face and that’ll leave me exposed. Exposed to the light, the sounds, the eyes, the room. I don’t want to face this. Maybe if I remain like this long enough I’ll disappear; or maybe they will. I want to try this. I don’t feel strong enough to look up. Staring at my legs feels good, okay? These blue jeans make my legs look fine. These are my legs. From my body, right?

I hear someone speak. It’s so far yet so close. She says “I’ll pay the bill and we’ll leave, okay?” No, it ain’t okay. It’s not. But if it isn’t for you I won’t get out of here. She gets up and grabs her jacket. I can’t get up. She’s waiting for me. Haven’t I ruined the night enough already? I don’t care if I have to rip my skin off to get those hands away from me. She’s mad at me. She’s disappointed in me. I ruined this for both of us. But mostly her. I get up. I’m sorry. But thank you, oh thank you so much. My skin is intact. But I’m burning up. We walk. I can’t look up. The noise is killing me. I stare at her feet and follow them. I say sorry to them. My tongue is missing. My mouth is a hollow cavity that cannot even gulp down enough air to ease the lightheadedness. Thank you for saving me from this hell. Does she know?

She stops many times. There are so many people. They’re all probably staring at me right now. “Look at that weird girl walking with her eyes glued to the floor.” “Why does she play with her hands like that?” I feel ugly. Stop staring, guys. We wait in line to pay. This feels like forever. I feel weird. I feel bad for leaving so early. I barely ate. I ruined this.

We walk out. I close my jacket and put my hood up. I don’t want to see the lights and surely not the people in the streets. I stare at the ground and let my feet do the job. I’m on autopilot. My body is. My mind is busy overthinking everything and going back on old and fresher memories and stamp everything with guilt, shame, doubt or anything else it feels the need to. I feel like crying but it won’t work. I let my feet carry me. They know the damn road too well by now. I feel horrible. Shaking. But not very much still.

Halfway home. Now I feel numb. I open my jacket. It’s getting hot in here. Get rid of the hood. The light doesn’t hurt anymore. I don’t feel very real. I think about my small room and how it’s devoid of people; how it’s devoid of the outside world. I feel sad. Is this how my life shall be till the end? I don’t like being alone. I don’t like this poisonous bubble. But part of me doesn’t want to pop it; not that I could.

We’re getting there. I see a group of people not so far from the main entry. I flinch for a second but keep going, staring back down.

Finally inside. I get rid of the damn jacket and walk into the bathroom. I’m slightly shaking and my breathing is heavy but not so much. I take my clothes off and wish someone would do it for me. This is so tiring. I manage. I get in the shower and almost burn to death. I can’t think fast enough. After three tries, I get the right temperature; not really, but good enough. I stand numbly under the water and let it wash away the infinite bullshit I am covered in. I can’t cry. I’m bored. I get out.

Now I’ve got to put clothes on. The. Struggle. I don’t feel anything anymore. I brush my teeth. Boy, do I look ugly. So much darkness on my face. My soul leaked again, I think. I don’t even laugh at my own jokes. Great, I think, my favorite kind of nights!

I stare into space as I mechanically fill my bottle of water and sit on the bed. I grab my computer. It’s so slow. Please, don’t do this right now. I need some music. It’s finally on. Struggling to give me what I ask for, but hey, I can’t complain. “Like master, like pet” or whatever. I finally get my music. I hesitate. I don’t know what I need right now, I think. I listen to one song. Then another one. Still not it. I DON’T KNOW. I finally settle for BMTH’s That’s the Spirit album and open my WordPress tab.

I type down some shit on a draft. Things I thought of in the midst of my freaking out at the restaurant. I’m always amazed at how, through all the mayhem inside, my mind can still think “Hey, that could be a great start for a poem!” or “Next. Best. Saddest. Song. Ever. Will write!” Oh, how artistic do we become when we’re at our worst!

I open another post and think “catharsis”. I start typing what I think will be a poem but soon turns out to be a weird somehow vague post about how fucked I am. I’m hungry but I brush it off; my body won’t accept it, I won’t swallow and ugh.

I finish it and re-read it at least a thousand times without changing one word. But just to be sure, you know. I put some space in there. Doesn’t that take away from the spontaneity? I thought it had a better impact without all these spaces. It felt more like the actual thing that way. I keep the spaces so that if anyone actually reads it, it won’t be that much a pain in the ass.

I post it and pick my 3DS in the hopes of finding some peace of mind. My stare is still very far away. I’m not here anymore. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be back in the cockpit. Maybe not. Every day is a surprise. What will I get? What degree of hell? How will I manage? Usually, not so well. Ah, can’t wait!