Thinking...

7:20 am . In the train ,I'm going back to work again , I can already feel the pressure on my shoulders, in my head.


I bought this note book at the station , wondering why..
Well, it's a good deal cause at least I will improve my english again or I rather say to improve my pain again lol.


I'm sure this is not the right english but I don't care.


My guitarist always says , when he read my lyrics " This not the right english ! "
Ok , well then it's American or what ever , this is understood that's all needed.


I pretend, I just don't care , but I always keep pretending and I'm so sad about this.


I hate my job and all the people around me, I'm full of hate .

My psy always says to me '" Don't be scared , show your feelings ! "
I just can't , there are such horrible .


Actually , I'm reading a book from Elisabeth Wurtzel , she was a ritalin addicted. Well, we're not similar , I could if I want snoring the ritalin of my son who is hyperactive but I 'm into Xanax since I'm 15.



Back to work , sky is blue , Such a perfect day ;) , the train is leaving the station , later one I will try to convice my boss that I really had a tumor , and this was a hard time , this explain my regular absences.


Inside myself I cannot touch myself , I'm a perfect liar for saving myself from mine.


I'm blaming myself about my resistance against life which is really poor.


I have mental illness maybe since I was born , it started with asthm, anorexia, agoraphobia , depersonalization , Addiction to Xanax ( Mr X )and cutting .


Cutting , the last one , I have horrible scars on my legs , which I'm really proud..
but Xanax is my first love , gave me calm and creativity for all things I have done.



I up to my doctor each time I'm out of my limits , sometimes I see therapy like a God , sometimes I don't see anything.


But I always need to reagin reality , so thx you Mr X.



Second train , the one who is always crowed , more bacteria.


I had already took 2 Mr X.


God ! who are you ?
I have to fix this , again and again , years by years .


I said to my boyfriend that I want his dog to die , I cannot support this stupid dog anymore , He's always looking at me and he knows I hate him but he still goes on !











In France , a few days left ...in the family of my boyfriend , I had a chat yesterday with an ancient colleague , I spoke to him about my family and he said they seems to look like the Adams's family. Kind of , if we consider my mother is in a sect and practise exorcism , my father is fucking psycho and my brother is in the middle of nowhere , trying to escape from that country. Today , I slept in the afternoon while the weather was superb outside , I was stoned and I thought , there's nothing else to do.



Well , my first idea about my artist career was to be a writter , I always wanted to be a guide to makes people travelling, then draw but my father said , this was not a real job , you should keep your gift for " occasions " cause you will never be what you want to be. Then I put myself into music , I was maybe good, after all my family were opera singers , played violins ..of course I was more into ACDC but everything is related no ? At least I still considering myself as someone special as I had big problems with feelings since I was born , in utero is the better word , I read in a medical book that some children can develop kind of excemas because they already feel their mother have a problem with pregnancy. Then , when I was born , I was an ugly baby full of excemas or psoriasis , I was already rejected by my mother and separate immediatly , I was in the hospital for 2 months before going back home.



Home sweet home, I survived and once my father told me that he or they thought I won't be able to survive . Bad luck ! after this asthm crisis came over and here it start , for now I only use my ventolin when I'm doing sports or when I have a bad flu but in the past it was terrible , at 6 I was again separated to go to a special hospital in the moutains with children like me , we received there special treatements and school as well. This was in Auvergne in France , I was so young , I have a bad souvenir , once I've stolen a tennis ball and there was this stupid girl who told off to everybody that I was a thief , and this also because I didn't have a pure white skin.



Yes, my mother come from Madagascar , that explains my milk-coffee skin , seems funny but I passed my childhood in a very small village where everybody were afraid of my mother skin who is almost black , so yes , call this racism.



But this is not the worst , the worst was my father , influenced by the habitants of the village or too weak to fight for his wife , or not really in love ? he became also racist ans started to discriminated my own mother , I was in the Electre processus so I was with him , at least the only parent who cared about me , in a way I was agree with Mickael's Jackson decision.