the real me

Far Away

I wish I was young again, with all those dreams that extended beyond reality, all this hope in an extraordinary future filled with immense joy, this vision where everything was colourful and vibrant, alive. 

Hope. Nostalgia. Enfance. 

I couldn't be anything but extraordinary, beautiful, the perfect character. The épinome of social. People would come to me for help, advise or just because I was me and I was the sun. I was the light in the room, I was everyones dreams, I didn't care about what anyone though. I was me and I was beyond happy with my life. I was smart, respected, loved by everyone. 

Unfortunately, dreams are not real. That's why I can't let go of the past. She was so happy. She was perfect. Now that is all is left of her. A glimpse in the past and an aching in my heart reminding me of her certitudes (dreams). She was sure, had no doubt, didn't even ever questioned it. 

Most day, I can't believe that she actually existed and that she is not a fragment of my imagination. Sometimes, I get those feelings, and I know it is her doing. For a glimpse of time I see things differently: everything is beautiful and possible, the world has no limits and our dreams can take off. She whispers to my ear "go live THE life, you are more than this". And I start to see it, the friends, the adventures, the beauty of it all. 

It never last. She would cease any opportunity, smile, show her personality and not think twice before doing so. People always loved her, put her in the center of the attention, they would follow her or at least be interested about this little spitfire girl. 

Christmas was a miracle, a beautiful snowy marvellous period. The joy, the snow, les pattes d'ours rouge, le ski, les lumières, les chants, la joie, les gens heureux, la gaieté, les decorations de noel, les magasin dans les rues, un avenir grand, comme si le monde n'avait aucune limite. Noël était toujours magnifique. Everything was magnificent and mysterious, everything and nothing made her happy, she was so so delighted, lighthearted. 

Des lumières brillant partout. Une rue recouverte de neige. Des maisons appartements le long de la route. Il neige. Un lampadaire éclaire l'atmosphère. Petite fille avec des gants rouges d'ours, un bonnet rouge, souris au ciel pleins d'étoile et de lumière. Comme des lucioles de lumière. Un temps parallèle, une vision différente. Elles dansent autour d'elle. Elle vois qqchose que on ne voit plus. Qqchose qui l'entourer de bonheur, lui donnait un sourire magnifique. Qqchose que l'on ne comprend pas mais elle rayonne, de bonheur et de sourire et de joie enfantine. Elle rigole, elle est tellement heureuse. Magique. "c'est magique"

Impossible de décrire ce sentiment de jubilation. Fermer les yeux et ne ressentir que du pur bonheur. Des rêves de petite fille pleine de certitude. 

Je ne remercierais jamais assez mes parents de lui avoir donné ces opportunités et de lui avoir montré la beauté du monde. 

C'était magique. Merci.

08/12/17