A drunk girl in Paris

Juin 2015. Prenez une fille que l'excès d'alcool rend toujours mélancolique, mettez-lui un téléphone entre les mains, et lisez ! 

I’m writing this text drunk because I’ve to put it down before forgetting it. Women are meant to be loved. Why ?

They are so kind. They do things without expecting anything in return. Because every woman is a lil bit crazy. Because we can go in an exclusive girl night-out, having fun, but still need those arms to hold us strong. But because those humans, so strong, so funny, so giving (is this even english ?), need to be loved. Because we can be there at the nightclub, writing things, thinking about all that money wasted for an alcohol bottle, without any man, standing up when listening at "alkayidah", and still be meant to be loved. If not for Adam, there will not be any Eve. So yes. Women need to be loved. Is this strange? Sorry, I’m drunk.

Paris by night and all my loneliness. 

Yup I’m lonely. But no I don’t feel like the only girl in the world. There are several people in “Hopeful Deb” so it’s ok. No it’s just that those nights in Paris, the city of love, a city which has always be full of promises for me, I can’t help but think about those things. 

Think about a him that doesn’t exist. A me desperately looking for love, but a me still strong, still at ease with herself, a me who is a lil bit more woman with days going by.

 So is this growing up? No I’m not necessarily missing my childhood. No I’m not necessarily sad or anything. I’m just realizing what’s happening. I’m becoming a woman. Or not. Are we women at 22? I don’t know finally. And you know what? I’m not going to think more about it with all the alcohol I have in my blood. (Initially I wrote “on” my blood. This is where I have to stop.)