It's hard to know what to write when you don't know that you can write. I don't want to censor myself, and I write unapologetically because there is nothing to apologize for. This is my line, this is eternal.
I explained that the point of this blog, the voice of this blog, is produced such that I look like the asshole I feel like. It is designed to exacerbate the inferiority I fear and callousness I feel. I explained what it was meant for and that it was not meant for her. I explained that she should not be offended as I told her nothing. You can't penalize me for not inviting you to a fake funeral.
Things were explained, emails were written, this is the beginning of something, though I am not certain of what.
Start linking and commenting as you wish. I'm done caring. It's just Edith Piaf and me against the world now.
Ils sont partis dans un soleil d'hiver
Ils sont partis courir la mer
Pour éffacer la peur
Pour écraser la peur
Que la vie a clouée au fond du cœur