I can’t believe those nights turned into today.

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(Lil’ side note before I start the post:
I managed to order the badly needed pedals for my guitar yesterday, and I did not get one,
but FOUR –yes, fucking four–
and now I am close to being flat broke but at least soon the frustration will be cleared away.
I should receive them this week and I cannot wait!)

Today, I went to the art gallery. And, although I have been going there at least once every weekend for the past seven to eight (??) months, it felt like a first time. Maybe not a first time. But it was different. Everything felt and look different, even those same paintings that have always been there, and the staircase, and the bathroom…

The art gallery is one of my favorite places out there. It’s my safe haven, you know? It’s a place I know and feel very comfortable in. And with the way my mind works, I need that type of constant to help me swim through the messy waves of life. And that place is just that. I try and go every weekend, to get my weekly dose of colors, shapes and happiness. It’s fuel to my soul.

But today, as I stepped inside, it was as if I had entered a parallel universe. Same place, same everything. But something felt different. Not “wrong” different; a strangely comforting different I’d say…

So, I spent thirty minutes walking around, looking at more paintings than usually and rediscovering the place. The smell of the wood, the light, the cracks on the paintings, the carvings on the stairs, the doors. Each and everything I interacted with felt oh so different. I was confused. But it felt really good. It made me happy and I felt calm and inspired. I noticed details I had somehow overlooked during my many previous visits.

I’m not sure why it felt the way it did but I sure am thankful. Maybe I was a little more open to it after all those experiences and surprises from that mad July! Or maybe it was just in the air. I felt more open to my safe space and I think it was more open to me as well; giving more.

I’ve had some anxiety fits these past two weeks. Which fucked me up nicely to say the least. It was nothing but it took me by surprise as I was foolish enough to believe the calm meant it was all over. I guess I needed a reminder that it never ends. Duly noted! I won’t fool myself again. So, I’m thinking that might have been it. They left me feeling pretty sensitive, so maybe they opened the right doors that I’ve been trying to reach for months now. I don’t even know.

After that, I went for yet another long walk, all the way to the park while on the phone with my sister. And I had a picnic on my own by the river. It felt amazing! Then I walked around, snapped some pictures for the sis, and eventually settled on a bench to watch the ducks and seagulls play in the water. Then I took another long walk by the river, taking my time to reach my bus back home.

On the ride home, I was extra sleepy!!!! So when I got here, I showered and had a coffee with a little pinch of cinnamon in it. I’m not a big fan of the taste of cinnamon in coffee, but there’s loads of benefits from it, so, whatever!

Yeah so, basically, when I got home, I just settled down and tried to do things. Did not really happen though! Ha ha. I did get to play some guitar and work a little bit on that art blog that should definitely be ready next week!! And that’s about it.

Even as I type this I can still feel that bliss from that strange art gallery experience. Everything was so refreshing, the paintings, the wood, the river, the wind and, oh, all the beautiful dogs! And it’s hard to believe.

I mean, although this is what I was hoping for last year and the year before and maybe every other year before that; I can’t believe it’s happening. I’m building my little empire. I’m meeting the coolest nicest people. I’m having fun, smiling and even laughing sometimes! I feel confident and strong. I couldn’t have guessed that those wine & ice cream saturated nights(months) would turn into that type of solo-picnic-art-gallery-magic kind of brightness.

I can’t believe that after all the fucked-upness, I am here and standing among so much light. But I will cherish it, I promise. ❤

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There’s nothing that I can’t do.

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I had a lovely weekend with Esther. Of course. Once more. I wish there could be many many more but, soon these won’t be a thing anymore and I’m gonna miss them! We had our usual hanging around on Saturday and on Sunday we studied (different things) together. It just feels so nice to have someone to share the little things with, someone that never fails to bring a smile to your face. Much love!

Anyway! Yesterday I was feeling rather proud and reassured. Indeed, on both Saturday and Sunday, before I met with E, I did a couple of things on my own, many of them who I’ve known to be anxiety triggers. But I did them, without a sweat, or almost, and it felt really good!

Lately, I had grown scared that I had lost all ability to things on my own again, as the storm has been messing with me again. I had had a couple tiny anxiety fits lately, even in the presence of E and in friendly environments. And this, along with the fact that I could feel my dependence to my friend, had led me to think that I couldn’t do anything anymore and that I was, in fact, doomed.

And so, on these two days, I set up tests for myself, and, I passed them all! With flying colors! Not only did I go and buy some guitar strings or go at a café alone, I interacted non-awkwardly with the cashiers and baristas, and I was pretty cool. From my point of view at least. And you see, that is the thing…

What the storm does, aside from eating up from within, is make me forget who I am and the things that I can do. Because, at the core, I am a pretty smooth talker that knows how to get her way, but because of all those years spent under the control of my own demons, I’ve forgotten my own ways.

This is not who I am. I’m not a scared, shy little girl. I am strong, funny, clever and unafraid. And that’s what this weekend was a reminder of:

I am the fire!

And there’s nothing that I can’t do once I set my mind to it! And, what the storm thought it had destroyed, I am getting it back, and there’s no stopping me!

I know I sound dramatic, as per usual, but I truly thought that some things I had lost forever in that familiar darkness. But I was wrong. The power is in my hands, and I get to decide what stays and what doesn’t. I choose. I build. I destroy. I am not the storm’s puppet, nor is it truly my enemy either.

This weekend, I proved to myself that I still got it, the strength, the will; everything. And today, it only got better!

Today, I walked to the city, then went to buy some acrylic yarn for my sister, and then I went to my favorite coffee shop to study some music theory. And, eventually, I took one more coffee which I drank on my way back home, walking once more. AND I was alone the whole time!

Sure, at first I was on the phone with my sister, which did help a lot. And then, my first thirty minutes in the café, I was shaking a little. But I was on the field, nonetheless, and I did not once chickened out!

I went, I stayed and I worked through the very minuscule anxiety waves pulsing through me. And I did it! I even managed to go to the bathroom, which is a really HARD thing for me to do, unless it’s like a public bathroom in a shopping center (….don’t ask, I don’t even know! ). And I did it all. I was shaking a little, and all of that. But I did those huge things on my own, and it makes me so happy.

Now, I’m exhausted, but happy!

I did loads of walking and not enough of eating. And also, the little bit of anxiety still took a lot of energy from me. But I am happy! Happy that I did things and happy with the little rewards that the Universe scattered on my way.

I got so many surprises today and I just don’t know what to say. It was little things, like, you know, a dog smiling at me or my mp3 playing exactly a song I wanted to hear. And, it was silly little things, that I desired to happen which happened and left me shocked and thrilled. It was sweet little rewards that felt like a warm hug, saying “I’m proud of you for trying and succeeding; you’ll get there”. And it was comforting.

Still, on my way back home, I stopped in a shop, feeling the need to reward myself with a new dress or something. But the need faded quickly and walked out of it, empty-handed. However, the Universe, in Its infinite generosity wasn’t done sending love my way! When I got home, I checked Instagram, only to find out that the fifth season of Arrested Development is coming this 29th on Netflix. And I am ALIVE again!

I feel so good…

IMG_20180507_185303_710.jpg These were such empowering days! I had let fear feed of me instead of using at a fuel, as I usually would, and that led me to forget how bright I can actually burn! But, I guess that the fighter in me had had enough and finally gave me that little jolt, for me to go out there and find out for myself, that, yes, indeed, I’m still good.

Also, today, I got to taste some sweet little surprises which filled me with both, hope and inspiration!

I’m really tired now so I am simply going to lie in bed and watch something! I did finish my music theory chapter today, so I don’t have to worry about doing more work. I can just sit back and relax, and pat myself on the back over how I’m a big girl!

I will publish an original song over the course of this week. So, look forward to that! Also, probably another video on channel #2 at some point; I want to be more active on there also because it feels good to speak out some things! And, hopefully, some art too!

Until next post, remember…

When there’s no one else, look inside yourself

Like your oldest friend, just trust the voice within

Then you’ll find the strength that will guide your way

You’ve got this! You can do anything; you’ll get there! ❤

Uncage the Night, Chapter X

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First chapter: here

Previous chapter: here

In this chapter, Sophie and Nicolas are back home and Leslie surprises them with a homecooked dinner.


And that was Bal Masqué by the brilliant–”
Nicolas turned off the radio, never breaking the habit of interrupting people mid-sentence. Sophie looked at him, grinning, while he briefly glanced at her. He focused back on the road and they both smiled, satisfied by the short telepathic exchange they just had. It was a very relaxing ride back home, or so it seemed.
That song kept playing in the back of his head. You lied but kept the mask on your face all along…

“It’s five o’ five.”, Nicolas said. “Nearly there.”
But Sophie didn’t reply. She was still busy flipping through pictures on her phone.
She had started with old ones as they left the hotel; Leslie, the swimming pool, the river, the afternoons spent baking, the family hikes, their paintings, her band and then Mitch, bright little Mitch. And now she was onto the last couple ones, from the night before; Nicolas, her Love, and her, under the moonlight. She sighed.
The ride remained a quiet one for the next thirty minutes. That was, up until they had their first surprise of the night.
“Nick, is that–”
“A police car.”, he interrupted her. Sophie couldn’t help a frown, although all her attention remained on the police car that was merely pulling away from their house. She held her chest, as if to keep her heart inside and squeezed her husband’s right thigh.
They quickly pulled up in the driveway. Leslie was sitting on the porch, her head cupped in her hands with her elbows resting on her knees. She didn’t wave at them. In fact, she wasn’t even looking at them.
Sophie ran to her daughter. “Are you okay, baby girl?”, she asked.
“Yeah.”, Leslie replied.
“Oh, the police! I thought something….”
“Shhh.”, said Leslie as her mom hugged her tighter than ever.
Out of Sophie’s embrace emanated warmth and love. Leslie’s, on the other side, was rather weak and dry. She returned the embrace but only mechanically. It was a physical gesture, devoid of actual emotions.
Nicolas joined in and squeezed the two women together. He left a kiss on Sophie’s head and then on Leslie’s. They remained that way for a short while. And eventually, the mandatory embrace broke up so they could meet up with Mitch inside the house.

Continue reading

Uncage the Night, chapter VIII

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Make sure you read chapter VII before you go on! Or if you haven’t read anything at all, click here to go to chapter I and brace yourself! 😉

In this chapter, we follow Leslie’s mother, Sophie, as she returns to her hotel room with Nicolas on that very same Saturday night.


Sophie dropped her phone on the bed and stared at it. She was thinking about the words her brain had just absorbed from its bright screen; digesting them. She bent down and reached for the red laces wrapped around her toned calves to undo the knots. Doing this always left her feeling dirty; the kind of shame that you have to scrub off for hours in the shower. Digging through her daughter’s blog and social medias weren’t her proudest moments, but that was just the way things were ever since Leslie’s…

She couldn’t bring herself to speak the word, let alone think it. A tragedy, was the word she’d rather use. They used to be so close, so bright together. But ever since the tragedy struck their family, she looked at her daughter differently. Leslie felt different, she was different. She had always been different but Sophie could now see all that was wrong about her. She used to only see her as her baby girl but the tragedy had opened her eyes and she could barely cover it up anymore.

Leslie’s stay at the rehab center had cleansed her and Sophie thought she could have had her baby girl back. But it was only temporary. A year for a year; now she was falling apart again. Something in her was broken and it would always keep breaking as long as she lived and no amount of cleansing would suffice. Leslie was broken and nothing was the same. They weren’t friends anymore, they weren’t the same as they used to be, much as they tried to pretend. Something had died in Leslie and with it went their bond.

Sophie still had hope, hope that somehow everything would fall back into place. And that was truly why she dug through her daughter’s online bubbles, not only to see if she was breaking down again but seeking signs of her getting better. She had hope that Leslie could go back to being who she was, her friend. She kept looking for progress, for sparks in all the darkness that oozed from her daughter’s mind. She desperately sought proof, clues, hints, that Leslie could be normal again, in one piece inside, and that they could be friends again. Sophie still had faith that things could be okay, even when all she could find was darkness and helplessly witness what was left of her daughter fading away. Continue reading

Sad thought from a happy day?

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Today I went out with my Lilly, her boyfriend and her nephew(and boy, has he grown!!). We saw the new Spiderman movie. I wish I could’ve heard Michael Keaton’s real voice instead of the French dub, but what d’you want? We’re not in Lille. The €€€ fly but your 20170715_122537-1expectations can DIE. Not really kidding, but you can laugh! I do cos it’s saaaad 😦

Everything was fine until we sat in the cinema and they started chatting together and I was left with my thoughts and the darkness(not really at first but it already felt like it).

[ I will try and be as short as I can because I am tired right now and at home. Honestly, as much as I’d have lots to say and write, I can’t just spend my time on a computer/phone. I take pictures and post them when the internet allows it but even if it means not doing anything or simply staring at my mom all day, I’m spending as little time as needed on the internet. ]

And as I sat there, she started speaking; that voice that just knows not how to lift me up. I tried to fight it and keep busy, devour my popcorn before the screen is even turned on, stare at the ceiling, listen to my friends’ conversations… But nothing worked. She just talked and talked. She put me down. She did not hit where it hurts, on those swollen bits of me I’m used to pressing on whenever the challenges get a bit too heavy and I fall. She hit on one of the biggest insecurities of mine… And that is, the stupid storm.

That voice wasn’t telling me how bad a friend I am, how boring, nor how I’ve been looking fatter lately, how I might not be as strong as I thought. No, she did not mention any of those things, because they weren’t so important at that time. The storm was the real thorn on the sole of my foot which I had to push deeper in, jump on and torture myself with.

She was telling me how weak I was.

Just a moment of slight darkness and I was gone, gone with the winds of despair and self-loathe. All it told me was “Look at you, the movie’s not even started yet and you’ve already let your thoughts flood you and drown you. Just a minute in and you’ve been reduced to a quiet piece of shit, and nobody even notices.”

I wasn’t putting the blame on my friends for not noticing me getting quieter and slowly fading in the background, it was all on me.

And the worst part was that, with all this already heavy enough bullshit in me came a crippling guilt which glued me to my seat. How could I be feeling bad and having all these thoughts run through my head while I was with my best friend and expected to be all about the good time? How could I just start thinking of myself and let sadness fill me while sitting next to my best friend whom I love and whose presence just completes me? I just felt bad for feeling bad, which is a feeling I’m sure a lot of people can relate to. And it sucks.

I had all these racing dark thoughts, sad ones and those mean ones pressing on my other weaknesses. But this voice was the loudest, the narrator of that afternoon. Because that’s what it was doing, narrating with acid words the mayhem in me as I sat near my dear best friend and her close ones.

And maybe the reason why I couldn’t fight it is because I agreed with it. The voice was right. I was being assaulted by those razor-sharp thoughts while there was still light in the room and I wasn’t on my own.

I don’t think that I can enjoy going to the movies anymore.

And that’s how I came to this conclusion.

I used to enjoy this because it was a way to keep me completely distracted from the bullshit inside and outside but just like a lot of things, it seems it’s not enough anymore to anesthetize my restless self. So maybe I should just stop going. I can still watch movies at home and it’ll be just the same but with more food! 😛

But really though, it sucks to pay so much money to sit in a dark room full of strangers enjoying a movie while you’re just melting on your seat and having multiple life crises at once. I can still enjoy it but it leaves me so messed up. And I feel even more alone like this, because I’m trapped in myself and no one can possibly know and it physically hurts.

Is it worth it?

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“help i had a good time”

It took me about thirty to forty-five minutes to get somewhat focused on the movie rather than my thoughts and hands. Just like it did, back when I still went to class, for me to calm down from my anxiety fits. It’s not as much a torture, honeslty. But it’s just not enjoyable, I’m so uncomfortable when this happens and I can’t escape. It’s actually pretty horrible.

So, yeah, this happened; again. I had a good time. I had a good afternoon. I was with my best friend and on the ride back home, even though I wasn’t feeling so well and quiet as fuck, she managed to make me smile and laugh and speak.

It was good but it was also really bad. And as happy a day it was, all it leaves me with, sadly, is this thought: I don’t think I can enjoy simple things anymore because I’m a wreck. I’ll try to hold on to the light of this day and the smiles and the good. But I seem to have discovered that brains tend to focus on the bad memories, or maybe that’s just me.

Everything is exaggerated in this 5″2 factory and well, I’m tired; I don’t want to type anymore.

That’s gonna be it. Longer than I thought it’d be, but I’m a fast-typer! 😛

Until next post, just, breathe. ❤

 

Color Me Undead: a poem and a drawing

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COLOR ME UNDEAD

Sunshine is a false friend.

The weather never stays the same inside this hurricane:

Sky’s grey, then blue, then white;

There’s sun and then it rains.

I just never know when it’s safe to rest.

I gotta keep on the move

Always, even when I lose my groove.

Paint me, pain,

For I am a canvas

And I’ve been blank for too long now.

The ground isn’t very stable.

I keep falling in these muddy puddles.

They take away my colors; leave me numb.

Mean cycle; recycle…

Mom, rock me back to my cradle.

Sunshine is a false friend,

The storm it never ends!

Paint me, pain.

Paint me again,

Over and over again.

Give me a face.

Give me hard times.

And, please, leave a trace.

Weather forecast calls for the peeling of my soul.

Layer by layer I melt away

Under the merciless waves

Of this self-perpetuated hell.

Acid rains devour my core.

I barely bleed as I lose my skin.

Colorless; colorblind; who am I?

Paint me, pain.

Help me be again.

Show me I’m alive,

Not living in vain!

Show me who I am!

Show me that I can

Be more than a stain…

There’s still blood in these veins

And strength in these legs.

And next time,

When it rains,

Come back faster to me, friend,

And paint me sane & chained!

Color me undead;

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The drawing was fueled by Halfnoise’s EP The Velvet Face and Paramore’s latest song(which I’m so asdfghjkl about). So I was really feeling that colorful but mournful vibe. Which was already pretty strong with my post Pain is a color and I’m a rainbowAnd the first draft of the poem was fueled by the drawing. And then the real thing was fueled by the storm and insomnia and also eating a green apple past midnight.

It’s 4AM, I’ll try to catch some Zs now. There’s so much I need to say; I’ll try to write a post and let it out, maybe this week, maybe later, I don’t even know anymore.

Until next post, don’t eat apples after midnight and get some sleep ❤

One night out.

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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!