she curses in French and says the words "I love you" in a language she alone knows

I find no need to pose for you

for I would rather have ridicule from you, for seeing the real me,

than win your love, by putting on my most beautiful facade . . .

And I finally dare to talk of . . . uhm . . . alright, yeah . . . love

grrrr... c'est la vie! il est mon vie... il est? i just had this realllllllyyyyyy looooooonnnngggg post, and an error occurred, and i lost it... oh well, next time... grrrr again... pardon, desole, je ne voudrais pas . . . oh well . . .

my first entry

just so if anyone must know, i am highly tempted to start this thread of chants to summon some divine powers from long ago, but i won't. twenty-one years of existence seem to be just enough to supply me with words-yeah, words, what else have i got. for reasons too complicated to explain at the moment, i have finally gathered up ample courage to admit to myself and to anyone who might be interested that i am a writer. pardon to those group of literary elitists who think such should not be so easily used as to appoint a certain individual as so. i can say, that i am human, as simple as that. but that would have to take me an entire lifetime still just to be able to announce that i am already devoid of anything that denotes inhumanity. for one, i yet have to learn to respect myself, and convince myself that the world of ideas is different from the world of the flesh. yeah, i am highly into metaphysics at the moment. i have come to believe that words are one of those that can serve as something that could give life to the intangible things in our minds. a star becomes more brilliant when those beholding it are the ones who see its brilliance themselves. from where did that last statement come from? well, my mind has yet to create a kind of tolling station as i cannot yet filter and decide which thoughts to let pass into existence. you see, freedom at its best could be as beautiful and as ugly as one wishes it to be. but let it be known, that when ethics starts, ideas should be left as so and as much as possible not influence other ideas. let ideas be one of the few untouched things of existence. i yet have to re-arrange my thoughts, because there seems to be such an overflow lately. i only wish for one thing-for something to hold on to, a point, from which i can again move relative to. if i do not know anything certain on my own, perhaps, relative to an entity apart from me, some form of truth might be come upon. God, this here ain't no pit no more. a kite, somebody said. a kite. one without the thread-just flying without nothing holding it, guiding it. nothing but the wind.