Category Archives: Hate!

I’m just gunna say it how it is


This will be a post that not many will agree on. They may be just as many, hopefully more that will agree with me on. Let’s hope you are enlightened people. I hope you are. If not, well that’s sad. I want to tell you to kinda of fuck off then… but I won’t, because I believe that you have a right to have an opinion… but people with the wrong opinions, well I don’t like you. I really don’t like you.

Abortion is a right. A fucking right. Your right to picket abortion clinics? No. Shut the fuck up. Write an angry letter to your political official. Start an angry blog. Hey, write your own suicide note in your own blood telling the world how you feel these women are murdering babies. Go on. Do that. In your own home. But don’t make a hard decision harder. You can’t understand until you’ve been in that situation… you can emphasise of course. No one wants to be in a situation like that, but sometimes you make a mistake, something goes wrong. But hell, I don’t want to bring a child into a world where I can’t buy clothes for it. Can’t afford to feed it. I want that child to have everything I didn’t have and more. Your child is the embodiment of the love you have for someone else, or maybe is this being you created out of pure love. That’s a child. You want its happiness. How is bringing a child into a world where all it will know is sadness, poverty and discomfort? I don’t want that. I don’t even want that for my enemies. Do I want children? Sure. I’m an only child. I grew up alone. I like being alone, but I wished as a child for someone to play with. I wish I had a big brother to protect me when I fuck up. I want someone to be there when my parents die, and hold my hand because they understand. But I’m alone. So that’s probably why I act strong. Some say bitchy and outspoken… maybe. But I also know deep down, that I came into this world alone… and I will die alone, so I pick myself up when everything seems to fuck up around me. I want a child, because one day, maybe I’ll be so in love with someone, that I want to create something with that person… a little someone that will one day find a love of their own. Because I know that when I find that someone, and I’ll look into their eyes, they will want the same thing from me. But it will be a choice. Because a child is sort of having a tattoo on your face… you have to be bloody sure you want it. There’s sort of no “backsies”. And that’s why abortion is important. The right to decide when you create this being, and with who. Sometimes you make a child, and you fall out of love… that happens. But that child was created, hopefully at a time of love… sure there are exceptions… there are those people who don’t care. They make babies coz they don’t know what else to do. Maybe it’s expected of them. Who knows. But the right to say no, as a woman is my choice. Sex is fun. No, with the right person, the right chemistry. It’s flipping amazing… but I don’t want to live in fear that every time I am with a guy a baby might be created. Use a condom… go on the pill… whatever works for you. But sometimes mistakes happen. It brakes. You forgot. You may be raped. Who wants to bring up a rapists baby? Have a constant reminder of a horrible moment in your existence? Who wants a father who is an unknown rapist? No one. No one can live with that.

Bringing a child into a world or an environment that is not ready, is not “saving a child”… it’s actually selfish… because you have brought a human being into a world that it won’t thrive or grow in. If you have every read any of Darwin’s books, you will be familiar with his world changing theory of evolution (which isn’t just a theory, it’s fucking reality “SAY NO TO CREATIONISTS YOU MORONS”… and yes I’m looking at you America!)… which means you know all about natural selection. Natural selection is technically no longer applicable to humans, owing to advances in medicine, but it still works on a social and anthropological level. Why do people who start life in richer families generally succeed better? (there are obviously exceptions, I mean look at Albert Camus for starters, but there are many… but rarer). With money, sadly comes opportunities. With opportunities, comes better schools, education, travelling… etc. it opens the child to a better job… a broader mind… better access to food and healthcare etc. This isn’t always true, but it is undeniable that it is a major factor. But it helps. So, if I take myself as an example. I’m a 25 year old student. I finish my studies in about a year and a half. I don’t have a job. I have a small flat. I can barely look after myself… let along a tiny human being. When I want a child, I want to be able to buy it nappies. Food. Whatever. I want it to go to a good school. Get a great job. Meet someone that makes them laugh and smile. I want them to be happy. Can I make a child happy now? Nope. So yes, if I get pregnant now. I’m having an abortion. Yes it hurts. Yes I don’t want to have to make that decision, but if I have to I will… because abortion isn’t murder. Abortion is about making the right choice at the right moment. Bring a child into a world that it can thrive in. Because unlike animals, the weak ones don’t just die… they poison your whole life. It’s sort of like being born with a thorn in your foot. You can still walk, but it fucking hurts. Being born to someone who can’t give a child all it needs, is the same. It won’t always thrive, it will eventually sort of go gangrenous and won’t be the best it could be. It takes someone who is born into hardship to say fuck you and pick themselves up. Look at the people who are born with too much money, or too much love and fuck up because they don’t have the fear to pick themselves up and sort themselves up. Life is about balance. It’s about trying your best to be the best you can, not just for you, but for the people you love and respect.

 

So, make the right choices… because that’s sort of what life is about. But it’s your life. So you make the choices that are the best for you. Don’t attach a rock to foot and jump into the deep end. Jump into the water with armbands on. It’s better to float than sink.

I dedicate this post to CB. Who always talks to me straight. No bullshit. And who always makes the best choices, even when I can’t, they aways give me the benefit of the doubt, and doesn’t judge me when I do go down the wrong road. Thanks.

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Filed under Choice, Culture, Family, Friends, Happiness, Hate!, Hello?, Love, Politics, Risk, Sadness, Sex, Shut The Fuck Up, Society, Sorry, The future, USA

Read me!


  My friend “F” made this for me the other day. Makes me feel slightly less sad.

fuckyouTagain

 

fuckyouT

 

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Filed under Games People Play, Goodbye, Happiness, Hate!, life's a bitch, Men vs. Women

Lock, Stock and Two Pints Too Many


Okie dokes. Where to start today? Difficult I’ll admit. Well. It’s a beautiful and sunny day here, and it can only put a spring in your step and a smile on your face. But, I shall talk today about something darker… what happens when you drink that golden nectar we all call beer (or for me, cider).

Today will continue from the last two I believe, but I can assure you, will be the last on the subject. Why you may say? Ah ha, I suppose like every good fairy tale, it has an ending! But not surprisingly (well for moi at least) not the ending you would desire. But that ladies and gentleman is not a shock, I mean come on, this is Roxy, everyone best friend! The last to be picked for sport etc! But, hey I’m not sad about that, I suppose you get used to that kinda shite anyway.

So, I’m feeling lazy and tired of all the shit to do with life, so I’ll be brief. Some friends of mine and I decided to do a onesie night and visit a few bars. We had copious amounts of gin at my flat, then headed to town. Now, we were very very hammered, so I feel like this probably explains why I went bat-shit crazy after (which for the people that know me, know I don’t do stuff like this, so yeah. Not my usual self!). We spend about two hours in bar C, and we left because there was live music, and I’m afraid to say we did not enjoy it! We then decided to go to bar MP. Mistake my friends would say, I on the other hand think with hindsight this was the only way, because visibly he didn’t have the balls to tell me, and I don’t want to live in wonder land (what pisses me off, is that I didn’t think he was a shit, I mean sure, I knew the guy had baggage (don’t we all?) but I swear I didn’t think he was this much of a heartless git. You will understand after, but holy fuck, I would have loved to say my own damn face, but anyway…) so I suppose at least I was… sure of his intentions (which to clarify here, is to clearly fuck me, lie and lie again, so super dooper Roxy!).

Anyway, so we all walk in, you could hardly miss us, because… I was dressed as a skeleton, one of my mates was a rabbit and the other one the cookie monster… so yeah. It’s not like we could “blend in”. Everyone in the bar was clapping and stuff, so they thought it was funny. We ordered a few pints and sat down. T’s mates came over and said hello (oh yeah, I forgot to say, dickface, or Mr T, was already there, but I ignored him, because, well he’s a big boy, if he wants to say hello he can, I don’t bite.) We had a few laughs… etc etc… I turn my face, and he is literally eating this girls face. I swear to you, all class went out the window, bit… sad really, I mean… seriously I think we are all old enough to know that PDA is a bit sad. Anyway. So, you are wondering what is going through my mind. Ah ha!!!! Well I was like, holy fuck, the dick. Ok fine. At least he’s made his choice, but didn’t have the balls to tell me. Okie dokes. Fine. I shall just enjoy my night anyway.

This is why I’m not totally sad about the whole thing, is because I have friends who love me and will defend me. One of my greatest friends screams “OI, T YOU FUCKING CUNT” across the bar. God Knows if he heard but hot damn does that make you feel good! This is when it gets funny, funny for me, definitely not for him. Now, I’ll remind you, I have never EVER done this, but as I saw him go to the lavatory, I shout “Oi. Dick head.” He pops his head up, and acts… mmm a mix between, drunk, surprised… and shock? No wait… shy… yeah he really hasn’t got balls… never thought about that. Oh well, (that said I usually go for shy guys but hey, maybe I should change hey?) I then (now I have got his attention) to shout something along the lines of, you piece of shit go fuck yourself. I can’t say I remember anyway. He then shuffles off.

I didn’t realise one of his mates heard and asked my friend C, what was wrong with me, she gave him an abbreviated version. (I found out the next day that he wasn’t aware of anything, so I’m thinking they can’t be THAT close. Oops. He said to C something along the lines of, oh well that’s probably girl A (in other words… well he’s got so many girls begging to date him that he has to class them, plan A, plan B…). Now, for people who know me, I have big issues with myself, my family etc but fuck me if I am going to be made to feel like a worthless pile of crap because a guy thinks I’m not good enough for him. So, even though I would of course want to see him again and all that jazz, for respect for myself etc, I can’t. I just can’t. I just hope he finds happiness. Or at least learns not to treat women like shite (although who knows, he may have made a special exception for me and decided to treat JUST me like shit! Who knows).

The thing is, in all seriousness, I don’t wish him ill. I really hope, he sorts himself out, maybe see a Psychologist or something. He has deep rooted problems, he doesn’t seem happy. Now visibly, I wasn’t the girl to help him, but maybe someone else will… but falling into another relationship… would just be a band aid… you can’t be happy with someone if you can’t be happy with yourself. I can attest to that, because I know how much I hate myself. I know why I hate myself, and yet I get up every day and try to be ok. I put on my mask and smile. The thing is, he likes wallowing in his own mess, that he thinks he’s the only one who feels the way he does. That’s called despair, and all I can say, is that everyone feels like that once in a while. So who knows what adventure lies on the other side, but if you don’t try, you can’t find out. As for me, oh well, it’s a shame, I really like like him, but what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger (argh, did I just quote Kanye West? Well… it WAS an expression before he made a shitty song) So… I’ll put that down to experience, and hope that one day it’s my turn for a great guy and a super relationship… or whatever! Until then, I shall… paint, draw, drink, laugh and cry! xxx

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It’s no longer the KKK… it’s the FFF (Friends Fucking Friends)


This post, has nothing to do with the KKK… but everything to do with the FFF. If you do not know what the FFF is… I am not surprised… I just invented it… but it is a way of explaining a new social change. You don’t understand? Ok… ok… I’ll explain.

Lately, and when I say lately… I mean in the last few years since sexuality became a “boring occurrence” in our/my everyday life (in other words, since sex isn’t a word that one whispers into your ear like a dirty joke or the name of the school bully). Sex has become, at least for me, something I son’t actually talk about with my friend anymore. I was actually talking about this with a friend last week while I was in London… when we are all just having sex, it was all “omg he did this… and did you know… and it was so big/small…” etc… now… everyone you know, has pretty much already done it and it is no longer a measure of “coolness” (I shudder that this was a big part of whether or not someone was loser or not…ohhhhh childhood!). Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked. I have noticed that people… are either already in long term relationships… or are dating friends of friends.

You find this normal? You don’t understand? Ok… I’ll explain.

I have a very close friend of mine (female) who is one of those girls who you can just let everything just hang out, you know? We are just comfortable together. Anyway, she has an older brother who (and it feels like a million years ago… but it is in fact probably nine years ago) I had a crush on. Although, if I think about it, I think it was probably because he was nice to me, not because I was attracted to him (and anyway, I was fourteen… everyone has a cringe crush when they are that young!). So, we are chatting and she tell me that a friend of mine (female) who I introduced to them about two months ago, went out with her brother (a friend but not close). Now… some will jump to the conclusion that I am jealous… and holy jesus mother of god am I not… I am… surprised (and it always comes back to me, of course). Why?

Well… I am actually surprised because this always happens to me. I can hear you screaming through  the computer what this has to do with me, apart that they are my friends, but it is actually more than that. This is like the millionth time (ok fine, probably nearer three or four times) that I have introduced two people from two different social groups of mine and they have “hooked up”! And this time it is even more… irritating because my female friend is one of my closest friends… why? Because this girl… is the girl that everyone fancies!!! Blind DateNo… really… every time we go out together for a drink… or go to a party… or whatever… all the guys flock to her… and I am always… the “cool funny girl” or as I refer to it “everyone’s best friend”. I am going to be single for ever (and this is why I said it always comes back to myself). It’s not the person she is with that irritates me, or that she has found someone (I am always happy when a friend has found love or a semblance of it) but it is just ridiculous that I have got friends who are all dating each other… and yet no one introduces me to guys… as I write I can feel myself getting more and more bitter… but I don’t really think I am… I think I am becoming Cilla Black, that old chipper bird from “Blind Date”. I am… a catalist of love, a fucking synapse… an electric spark… people just stick to each other, and I end up being the discarded charred rubbish… or in more realistic terms… the “introducer”… the presenter of “who wants to meet… your new (choose from this selection) boyfriend/lover/husband/wife/fuck buddy or one night stand…

The thing is, I know this is not going to stop… why? Because I don’t practise “friend segregation”. (sorry to use such a loaded term, but I felt I didn’t have a choice here). I… just mix all my friend together in a fruit salad. My philosophy is that if I get along with them, they I am sure they will all get along too. I have plenty of friends who don’t mix their social circles… notably a “friend” of university I no longer speak to because she found a more interesting group of friends and stopped hanging around with me because she didn’t want to mix “me” with her “law friends”. I felt like… discarded trash… so I said… ta taa to her.

To conclude, I am not annoyed by my friends getting together, my opinions on whether or not they are suited for each other is another matter, I just hate the role I have… because deep down, I two wish I was the contestant, and not the presenter. But hey, I have the shotgun loaded for my fortieth birthday… if I’m still single and I have cats plural, then it’s KABOOM… other than that, I’ll be looking for a new day job, if anyone has any ideas !

l

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Filed under Clichés, Errrrrr wtf?, Friends, Hate!, Men vs. Women, Politics, Society

I spy with my little eye, something beginning with “C”… haven’t got it ? Okay… it’s a cheater !


Now, I am not one to comment on “gossip”, mainly because I like to think it’s beneath me (but who’s kidding, nothing is really beneath human nature). But, since I am a “woman of the world”, I shall comment on a “new fashion” shall I say?

“cheating”

I am lucky enough to come from a non divorced background, so I have (as some psychologists say) a good chance of recreating this same “mating pattern”, or at least be more optimistic about finding “true love” and what comes with that particular territory. In any case, my values have always been that you should not do to others what you wouldn’t do to yourself. In this case, I shall not fuck myself over, and thus not fuck others over. And so is my mantra. I am definitely not perfect (my bank account can credit to that statement), but in a lot of domaines, I have (sadly) sacrificed sometimes short “pleasures” (shall we say) for the greater good (or for my own self respect and/or better prospects) in the search for “something better”. Now… true, I will admit to never (yes NEVER) being in a LOOOOOOONG term relationship. No. Not me. Oh well. But, for my defence, I travel a bit too much, I’m very choosy and… I know that I’m worth more than just a “guy” to keep me entertained. Being very independent doesn’t always help either. I’m an only child (thus accustomed to my own company for long periods of time), and also fairly bright (I have been told?!)… and as a feminist, I know that a woman shouldn’t settle for any old “joe”. I have always said that you should do good, and not being religious (my defence being that religion has caused many more deaths (through history) than saved and that I don’t need God to live my life) I do (sort of) believe in “karma”… in that if you do good, you get good in your life (nothing is 100% obviously) and if you do bad, there is a sort of… balance…

Let’s get back on point.

I don’t want to give the example which influenced my desire to post on this topic (for the second time no doubt!) but cheating seems to be back with a vengeance. Many in the press say that the victim is “humiliated”. But I can’t help but say… really? It isn’t “him/her” that is… I would hold my head up high, yes I was cuckolded… but… I am not the one who did bad… so why should I run? I mean cry, sure, shout a bit, swear, scream… go for it, but no way would I feel humiliated or ashamed. For one thing, I’d probably go and get myself 2 or 3 bottles of whisky, a couple of bottles of diet coke and a game of Twister, invite some friends over, but on some Queen tracks and get drunk. I’d try and smile, I’d make a few fart jokes and watch some trashy TV. I think I’d also do some internet shopping (you know… ahem to… feel good…). All I can say, is the importance is actually to be the victim and not the cheater… because the victim always has their morals, and when you’re single, it’s better to have them that be on the dating scene where everyone knows you’re a cheater (who want’s to date someone who they know is going to cheat on them?).

So, to end I shall send a mini warning :

“If you cheat, be prepared to feel like shit”

Alright?

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Why… are there so many losers now ?


I know that I am going to get a lot of shtick for saying this… but seriously. I seem to attract a mix of social retards, losers and freaks. No. Really.

 

Loser Guy = The New 21st Century Man?

Loser Guy = The New 21st Century Man?

You know those jokes : “An Irishman, a Englishman and a Scot walk into a bar…” ? Well… I get all the unwanted attention from the guys who say “ohhhhh you study sex and food history? Wow… well I am into sexy food fun… wanna join?” My usual response being… “yeahhhh sure… ha ha ha here’s my fake number… call me…” NOT. I think I am also too nice, and I am sure this happens to the grand majority of “nice/friendly” girls… we attract the guys with “problems” who need to feel good about themselves… so latch on to you like a leach… sucking all the good vibes and kindness from you, until they are happy again… then drop you like a used condom. These guys are probably the worse… not unlike cameleons, you can’t tell their real nature until they unmask… which the only do when they have what they want (your soul!)  In any case, the social retards are probably the ones that are slightly less worse than the blood sucking losers that I mentioned before… Social retards (like shy guys) have a kinda charm. They don’t see themselves clearly and misunderstand social etiquette… which can be endearing… just like it can be gross (cf: “Hey babe, your father must be a terrorist because he created a BOMB!” = loser).

That said, it is of course always a compliment when a guy is interested… but I don’t know if it is modern society… computer games… or just bad genes… but seriously… what is with the sudden surge is loser-retard guys?

Most of the time, a girl with say to herself “oh my god… I think I have finally caught a break… this guy seems really great… etc etc…” and BOOM you find out he’s a closet homosexual (so that’s never going to work), or he has a tiny penis (another dealbreaker) or that he still lives with his mum… dresses like a clown… has a freaky fetish… or has daddy issues (this one = true fact)… has a ex-girlfriend who destroyed them… or is married with 5 kids… secretly a hoarder… eats paint… uses girls… or is just plain and simply… A FUCKING ASSHOLE. No no don’t worry, I’m not angry… I’m just disappointed that the quality of men has dipped lately. So fine, admit… I have been told I am difficult… but come on… who wants to settle for just “average happiness”?

No one should have to.

I think the problem is, no one is truly honest anymore. Too much tv, Sex and the City and misogynic behaviour has made men losers. They are getting the wrong “This-is-how-you-get-a-girlfriend” emails and misinterpreting what women want. All we want is normality… but not boring… or Mr everybody… we want a real and honest guy. Which trust me… is not easy! And… internet dating is lame too = too many liars and losers! (see… alliteration in “L” there… probably a sign!)

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Inimitable, Atypique, Anomalie, Unique… Moi !


I apologise for all those who don’t speak French, but I am in a very good mood… why? Who knows, but I like to spread the happiness, and I am of the opinion that French is the language I desire to write in today (lucky I’m half French then isn’t it?)

So, commençons !

Lorsqu’on te demande de te décrire. Que dis tu ? J’ai pris la décision de vraiment parler de moi pour ce poste. Peu de gens le savent, mais je ne suis certainement pas un livre ouvert. Je suis honnête, ce que tu vois, est souvent ce que je pense et que je suis, mais au fond, on cache toujours quelques petites particules de note veritable “Être”. Pour beaucoup, ce sont les timides, ceux qui parle peu ou pas, qui cache leur jeu… mais en réalité, ce n’est pas de ceux qu’il faut se méfier ! Je ne peux que parler pour moi, et de mon propre experience, mais j’estime ayant pas mal voyagé, et étant de nature partante pour essayer tout au moins une fois… que je commence à connaître ce qui est l’homme… même si je sais que je n’ai que fais une égratignure à la surface. Je sais qui je suis. Je le dis haut et fort.

JE SUIS MOI. JE NE SUIS PAS PARFAITE. MAIS JE M’AIME, ET JE SAIS QUE TOI, OUI TOI LÀ POURRAIT M’AIMER AUSSI.

Etre sur de cela me permet peu – à – peu à ne pas trop attarder sur ceux qui me dont mal. Qui refuse ce que je suis, ce que je peux donner, et finalement ce que je represente. Je ne suis pas comme tout les autres. On me le dis. Et on me le répète. Ce serait tout de même pompeux de ma part, de croire que je suis seule à penser cela, car au fond, dans le monde dans laquelle nous vivons, nous sommes tous unique… et nous somme tous pareil notre notre façon d’être unique. Que sont ceux qui se démarque vraiment ? Comment savoir si nous le sommes ? Je pense savoir.

Absinthe...

Ceux qui sont véritablement différente le savent, au fond de leur âme qui le sont. Je ne parle ni de la maniere de s’habiller, ni de ceux qui se donne des airs en buvant de l’absinthe au bord d’une rivière, chapeau melon à leurs cotés et un spliff dans l’autre main. L’individualité ce n’est pas ceux que l’on pointe du doigt dans la rue car leur apparence choque notre état d’âme, ni ceux que l’on entend parler d’art et de politique comme si cela aller être eux qui aller refaire une utopie dans un monde comme la notre, où à chaque carrefour on voit ce qui est un univers à la fois gigantesque et désastreuse.

Ceux qui sont au sommet de l’atypique sont ceux que tu croises peut-être deux ou trois fois dans ta vie, que tu trouve banale, ou même étrange au premier abord… mais que dés que tu fasses l’effort de creuser un peu plus dans ce qu’on appelle “l’intimité de chacun” on réalise qu’on à trouver une perle rare, une perle peut-être disgracieuse au premier regard… peut-être qui manque d’uniformité… qui ne brille pas comme les autres… mais qui te transperce le coeur avec un javelot… te figes où tu te trouves.

C’est en quelque sorte ce qui est l’amour. L’amour ce n’est pas pour moi un sentiment comme on pourrait le penser. La colère, c’est la colère. La haine… n’est qu’un sentiment parmi d’autre… l’amour… c’est un assemblage de tout les sentiments. Lorsqu’on aime… on est également heureux, en colère parfois… jaloux… on est un puzzle de sentiments. L’amour… c’est en réalité la recherche d’une personne, que l’on ne connaît pas encore, ou qu’on connaît… mais si pour certains l’amour leur “tombe sur la tête”… ce n’est pas totalement vrai… l’amour c’est la recherche d’un certain nombre de choses qui ne sont pas totalement quantifiable. Parfois on ne sait pas ce qu’on cherche, mais lorsqu’on la trouvé… on en est sur.

l’individualité c’est un peu comme cela. Un premier rencontre n’est pas determinant. Ce que beaucoup oublie, c’est qu’il y a une multitude de “choses” qui font que telle ou telle rencontre est une réussite ou non. Je ne peux plus compter le nombre de fois on ma dis “Oh ben ta copine… je ne l’aime pas!”. Plus tard… lors d’une autre rencontre… elle peut être plus réussite. Pourquoi ? De nos jours, la veritable individualité ils ne voient pas. On ne peut jamais juger un livre par sa couverture. Pourquoi ferons – nous pareil avec les personnes que nous croisons ?

Je ne peux savoir. Mais je sais qui je suis. Je suis historienne. J’aime fouiller. J’aime découvrir ce que fais vibrer les gens. Je veux connaître le plus de choses possible et le plus de gens possible. Si la vie est un chemin à parcourir, je veux le faire avec les autres.

J’ai des regrets. J’ai fais des erreurs, mais je pense qu’il faut donner plus de chances aux gens, car tout n’est pas entre nos mains. Pour certains, la part des choses qui n’est pas dans notre controle, c’est Dieu qui le détient… pour d’autres… c’est autrui. Pour moi, c’est le hasard. Ne laissons pas le hasard dicter notre vie, il faut lorsqu’on est déçu, remonter sur ce cheval métaphorique, et re-tenter de comprendre l’autre.

Vous allez peut-être me demander ce qui à prompter ce blog. Ce serait difficile d’en parler sans que cette personne sache que je parle, d’eux. Mais si je peux être plus sommaire dans ma pensée, je pense que cet individu pourrait bien s’entendre avec moi, mais je suis déçu de la manière que nous avons passé du temps ensemble… ce n’était que peu propice à la découverte d’autrui… et j’ai peur d’avoir perdu cette personne à jamais. Pourquoi ? Car nous, l’être humain tel qu’il ait… aime jouer.. jouer avec l’autre c’est son passe-temps favori… et cette bête est parfois trop fière pour creuser au plus profond de l’autre pour savoir ce qui ne va pas.

Je termine donc avec une idée fixe de ce que je fois faire. Donner une chance ultime d’autrui, que lui aussi, tout comme moi, doit faire d’avantage d’effort dans la recherche de l’individualité de chacun. Tout le monde sait, combien de fois on me la dis, que je ne suis vraiment pas comme les autres. Il y en a vraiment qu’une Roxane ? Tu m’étonnes que mes parents ne voulais que faire un enfant, il me faut des hommes et des femmes fortes pour comprendre ce que je suis. Beaucoup abandonne. D’autres savent qu’il y a au bout du chemin quelqu’un de peut-être fantastique. Tout comme tout le monde est.

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