The more you tell me to wait, the more I want to start running.
Sometimes I forget to look for you in me and get lost in myself. Half the times, I’m sorry for it.
I can see you in me every time I look at the mirror. I see you, and you, and you, and you.
Ironic that we spend most of our childhood/teen years trying to belong and then most of our adulthood trying to be different and unique.
Innately talented to let myself fall into joy faster than into adequacy.
I can tell you how I feel without saying one single word.
Does it make you smile when I write about you between the lines?
I write your name in my notebooks from time to time. Calligraphy and all.
I can take the lead but I need you to watch over me. Just a bit.
I can tell you how it feels to be free.
Give me sunshine, fruit and music. I’ll be happy forever.
What I enjoy the most of being an adult has more things to do with childhood than with being a grown-up.
Makes me so sad that Time flies away that when I can linger on him, I try to make him fall in love with me so he won’t ever leave me.
I’m never really alone. I’d have to forget about everything and everyone to be completely alone.
I’m addicted to sunlight. As I am to every pleasurable thing in life like hugs, coffee and kisses.
The best way to get over an obsession is to get fixated onto something else. Preferably, something more pleasurable or of quicker gratification than the previous obsession.
I’ll leave my dreams on the wayside to fall in love with yours for a while. Then, I’ll pick up mine and keep going.
“Voilà, ma petite Amélie, vous n’avez pas des os en verre. Vous pouvez vous cogner à la vie. Si vous laissez passer cette chance, alors avec le temps, c’est votre cœur qui va devenir aussi sec et cassant que mon squelette.” – Raymond Dufayel in Le Fabuleux Destin d’Amélie Poulain.
You can tell whatever you want about consumerism, but it’s almost religious what sexy shoes do for a woman’s self-esteem.