Je n'ai qu'une visée: être libre. J'y sacrifie tout. Mais souvent, souvent, je pense à ce que m'apportera la liberté ... Que ferai-je seul parmi la foule inconnue? Dostoïevski
Description :
She says, she thinks that she will never be happy. Nobody can make her happy. Nobody can give her a kiss and make her fly, higher than the sky.
She says only one girl's laughter can make her smile.
She thinks that this summer she is going to leave, and probably, maybe, never come back.
She can't find her place, and she is just loosing grip.
She can't stand it anymore, she needs to change places.
Change faces, change everything.
She want's to breath. She want's to laugh till she can't stand it anymore.
She even told me that she wanted to cry.
She isn't doing to good, she is very sad.
I think I don't know her so well, but what I do know is that she is on the edge.
It's not always rainbows and butterflies, that she knows. But it's been far to long that the rainbows are rain, and the butterflies are gone.