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lizzie likes this

'Ivrogne'

I recently learned of a nuance in French between two words: 'alcoolique' and 'ivrogne'. I thought they were synonyms. I love words and I'm always pleasantly surprised whenever I learn that a word common in my vocabulary didn't quite have the meaning I'd thought it had until then. Or when I learn a new word and all of...
Since I'm not doing anything with my life, not writing my thesis, not getting out of the house, I might as well address unfinished writing. Here's something I've finally finished today. It's 6 years old. When American dollars were still far more valuable than Canadian.



A Whopper on Ste-Catherine and Main


It's...

I want to

I want to scream.

Just scream. Really loud.

But I can't scream, 'cause that would wake up the neighbours.

But I'll have to scream - let it out - one day, lest I accept that my only scream will be the one I make in that flash second I see my death before it hits me.

I'll learn to speak before.

Universe: hope with me.

csg

So it's been a while

I wrote other entries but didn't publish them. Today I'm just going to write whatever crap I think I right... write and get it over with. Interesting freudian slip there.

Isa has been dead just over 2 months now. She hasn't come in a dream; she hasn't sat by my bed and stroked my hair like my grand-mother's sister did to...

The good side is superior

Whenever I talk about myself to Mrs. E., my psychoanalyst, I always do it as if I were made up of two entirely distinct entities. I guess that transpired in my choice of 'crazysanegirl' as a user name. But with Mrs. E., the dichotomy is between good and bad.

I actually physically divide the two. When I talk about my life experiences, I...

Isa

Tu me manques... tellement.

Crise de pleurs. Je t'aurais appelée normalement. Tu m'aurais consolée; tu serais venue avec deux grosses bières. Mais t'es pas là. Et j'ai appelé tantôt; ton tel est effectivement déconnecté.

Isa, j'ai tellement mal... Je ne sais tellement pas comment dealer avec ce mal...

I thought you'd...

Dad

Editor's note: since Isabelle died I lost my voice. I tried to come on here a few times, tried to write, tried to focus, tried to put words to 'it', but nothing really came. No entry to publish. Or rather, only entries I didn't want to publish. Here's one:



I've been quiet the last few weeks. Didn't have much to...

Today's the day

I couldn't take it anymore. That tight feeling in my chest I get right before I have a panic attack. I'd had one the night before when I made the mistake of going to meet her ex - her ex that I've always hated and hold partly responsible for her death. He was one of the drops.

He'd been calling every day, telling me Isa would...

-none-

I feel so empty.

I've never felt so empty in my life.

It doesn't register in my brain. She's not dead. She's just away. I keep calling her and writing her. I want her back.

I want my Isabelle back.

I want her to call. I want to see her. I want to touch her. I want to hold her.

I want Isa...

Isa, j'ai besoin de...

My best friend, no more

Last Thursday, around 5pm, my best friend took her own life.

I was out of town at the time. I learned the news on the radio, on Friday, on the highway, as I was driving back home. She was a well-known author.

I still haven't really assimilated the information, but I'm sure I eventually will and lose the urge to call her like right...
lizzie likes this

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