Quand est-ce que ça s’arrête

Okay, but for real – can someone please tell me why I’m like this?  I go out of my way to make sure everyone else is miserable just because I feel like shit.  I put loved ones in situations where they are guaranteed to give the “wrong” response (selon moi).  And then get mad when they do so.  It’s a lose-lose for them and a win-win for me.  Even though I’m actually the one losing.  Big time.

But I can’t help it.

Bitch sit your punk ass down and stop using the absolute most pathetic excuse in the book.  “But I can’t help it” can be directly translated to “but I don’t want to change“.  Well, after years and years and years of this behavior, I’m fed the fuck up.  I now have a boyfriend that I love, and who loves me dearly, and he doesn’t deserve a girlfriend who plays these time-wasting games.  Especially considering we’re long distance France-America.  We do not have time to waste being moody.  And then there’s my family.  My family, yo……….god they deserve so much better from me.  So much better.  Who the hell am I to walk around with a bad attitude day in and day out when all they want is my happiness?  Who the hell am I?

I have trouble letting go.  I always have.  Whether I’m leaving behind an asshole fuckboy in Paris or finishing the last episode of The Durrells in Corfu.  I just make things into such a huge ordeal.  I’m so fucking dramatic, shit!!  My boyfriend sends me a snapchat video of his colleagues and I see a girl in there.  I screenshot.  Two seconds later my boyfriend’s got a text from me with said screenshot attached asking why he was filming that girl.  WHEN I KNOW FULL WELL THAT HE LOVES ME AND I LITERALLY DO NOT FEEL THREATENED BY THIS GIRL AT ALL.  WHO IS SHE?  I LITERALLY DON’T KNOW OR CARE.  But!  I’m bored, I want attention, and I want my boyfriend to explain to me why I shouldn’t be worried and to reassure me of how much he loves me.  So I come up with this sick, fucked up way of getting that out of him.  Manipulation.  Straight up.  I’m manipulating him to tell me he loves me when he literally tells me he loves me all day every day.  And here’s the best part – I’m fully aware that I’m doing this, and I hate myself for it, and I get even more angry (with myself), but transfer the anger I have towards myself to my boyfriend.  And then I’m mad at myself for being mad at him for no reason because he’s honestly the best boyfriend I could have ever wished for and it just goes on and on and on until  we’re both silent (me from shame and him from exhaustion).   Here’s a thought – tell him this.  Acknowledge that you’re being a childish little shit, laugh about it, and move ON.

I could write for days on this subject.  But we mustn’t dwell, must we?  We can only acknowledge our mistakes and make a conscious effort to better ourselves as we move forward.  Tomorrow’s the first day of the Christmas holidays, and I intend to spend these next few weeks making lovely jubbly memories with my family that I’ll take with me to Paris when I’ve flown the nest.

Appreciate what you’ve got.  Realize how good you have it.  Because nothing is forever.


Snapshots of the last few months

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Je tiens à toi

Rosie vous a envoyé un message (7)

Je t’aime mon amour ❤

Prudence, hein !!


Ecoute pas ta musique trop fort dans le métro !

Et fais attention à tes environs 🕵🏽🕵🏽🕵🏽

Ecris-moi quand t’es arrivé à la station et puis quand t’es arrivé au boulot stp

Je t’aime trop Thomas ❤



Des histoires à raconter

COUCOU !!!! Ouais je sais, ça fait un bail…mais je suis revenue, et avec des nouvelles histoires à raconter.  Alors là, je suis en train de finir mon tout dernier semestre à la fac, enfin, pour undergrad.  La remise de diplômes, c’est en décembre, et Thomas vient aux États-Unis pour y assister.  C’est qui Thomas ? Bahhh, c’est mon mec ça 🙂  Fini les fuck boys ! Fini le heartbreak ! J’embarque sur une nouvelle aventure: l’amour, pur et vrai.

Je vous expliquerai tout dans un autre poste, mais pour l’instant, voici quelques photos de cet été à Paris (et ailleurs).


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Tout le monde te croyait disparue, mais tu es revenue !

Yes, hello, bonjour, I’m still alive and well.  More than well – I’m in Paris again.  If that wasn’t already incredible, I was here doing an internship with the United States Embassy.  La classe !  I started the internship around the end of March, and I finished the internship about three weeks ago, AND I don’t go home until the end of July, donc….c’est plus ou moins les vacances pour moi maintenant 🙂  And let me tell you, j’en profite, my friend.  Oh yes.

Let’s see, what have I been up to?  Well, tons.  Should I just make one big master post for the month of June?  Or make one for each thing I’ve done, but go into more detail (with more pictures bien sûr)?  Aucune idée, so we’ll just see how this post turns out.  As usual, I haven’t exactly chosen a topic for this post (never do), but I can guarantee you, it will contain amazing pictures (yea, I said it), boy talk, et aussi un peu de français.  C’est parti !

I’d like to introduce you to the new (and improved?) Pont des Arts:




This next picture pretty much sums up my thoughts on this whole situation:



They did leave us some on both ends of the bridge by the stairs though. *praying hands emoji*


BOYS.  I’ve met quite a few boys this time around in Paris.  Some were relentless and super lourds, but there are a couple who I get on really well with, and one in particular who, get this, made me realize that Mathieu wasn’t all that.  No hate to Mathieu, I had an incredibly lovely time with him last spring, but I’m glad I’ve found others who…put my relationship with him into perspective, I guess.  Naive never-had-a-boyfriend-before Rosie thought Mathieu was the best thing that had ever happened and was absolutely heartbroken when she left him behind in Paris.  She is so happy to say that she was entirely wrong.

Unfortunately, even the good ones can really make me want to stab myself in the eyes and rip my hair out.  Without going into too much detail, during this séjour à Paris, I am, once again, learning so much about myself.  I’ll admit, it’s hard to say no to boys who aren’t treating you the way you deserve to be treated when they are French, et du coup, effortlessly sexy.  It has to be done though.  I am a Queen – treat me like one.

Also, can I just say – how do I always manage to start relationships with guys who have really weird and unconventional jobs that take up almost all of their time???  A baker, a I-don’t-really-know-what, and a self-employed journalist.  I know they’re busy but, hey, I like you…I want to spend time with you before I peace out back to America.  Yes, I’m coming back to Paris in a year, but I doubt anything will carry over to then, so let’s fucking profite ! (Pardon my French..English).

I’ve also made some great friends this time – some French, some not, but we all speak French 🙂
















Okay I’m getting tired now so I guess this is where this post is ending lol.  Stay tuned for the next one 🙂


Je t’ai rien envoyé.

Tu pleurais.  Le jour où on s’est dit au revoir, tu pleurais.  Mais c’était plutôt un adieu, non ?  Moi j’ai rien remarqué sur le pont là.  La seule pensée que j’avais dans la tête c’était “C’est bon, il pleure comme moi.”  Parce que si tu pleures, je vaux quelque chose de sérieux.  Toute notre histoire, c’était vraiment quelque chose de special.  La validation dont j’avais besoin était là dans tes larmes.  Putain, mon coeur, il ne s’est jamais senti autant d’émotion, et surtout pas pour un mec.  Mais toi…

Mais toi.

Je t’ai rien envoyé, ma Rosie.

Le lendemain, t’es mort.  Et après neuf mois, je me suis enfin permis de l’accepter.  Dès que je suis partie, je savais.  J’ai juste compris trop tard…


Well, if a miracle occurs within the next eight days, I shall be settling into my apartment in Paris as you turn your calendars from February to March.  You know when everything’s going really well, and you’re almost afraid to be happy because you feel as though maybe you’re not entirely deserving of all of this happiness, and you’re convinced that something must go wrong for balance to be restored to the world?  That’s me right now.  Who knew being a well-traveled 20-year-old with dual citizenship could ever be a disadvantage, eh?

While I anxiously await this long overdue security clearance, here are some photos of the Parisian life I was living last year and that I hope to be living again very soon.

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Métro. Boulot. Dodo.

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Can you tell I had a cold?

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One of my favorite sights.  Everything in this picture.

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Tame Impala!

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So happy.

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Je crois que je t’aime, etc. etc.

Ah merde.  Il va me voir comme ça.  Je me suis même pas brossé les dents.  Le mascara est partout sur mon visage.  Je suis sûre que je sens horrible.  Est-ce que j’ai pris une douche hier?  Je me souviens plus.  J’ai vraiment besoin d’une douche quand même.  Merde, putain, putain de merde, il se réveille, il se tourne vers moi – je fais sembler que je me réveille en même temps – il s’ouvre les yeux-

Il me sourit et il m’embrasse.  Il me serre dans ses bras.

Tout va bien.

On reste au lit pendant une heure.  Puis on s’habille et sort de l’appartement.  On marche main dans la main jusqu’au Champs-Élysées où on descend l’escalier du métro George V.  On passe le Navigo sur le truc, on arrive à peine au quai pour prendre le prochain train.  On change de la ligne 1 à Concorde à la ligne 12.  C’est à Pasteur où je le laisse.  On s’embrasse encore une fois et je sors du métro.

Je marche chez moi comme je m’étais habillée la dernière nuit, et j’ai envie de recommencer.







Ils sont tous des cons de toute façon.

This week and next week are midterms et du coup, I don’t have much time to write one of my usual posts. I’ll post a few pictures though, they’re worth a thousand words, right?




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Oh, petit cœur

Souviens-toi de la ville,

De la tour, du vin

Oh petit cœur, c’est pas la fin.


Il n’est plus là pour prendre ta main

Tant mieux pour toi

Ça va aller, tu verras.


Il y aura un jour

Je te promets, il va arriver.

Un jour plein de joie, plein d’amour, et ça va rester.


Embrasse la tristesse

Et ton immense chagrin

Mais oh petit cœur, c’est pas la fin.

Je suis pas bourrée.

Tout est allumé, et je suis là

Paralysée, les yeux ouverts, mais je ne peux rien voir.


J’ai pas trop bu, j’suis pas bourrée

Ça me fait tellement mal, mais je continue y penser.


Personne peut m’aider, tout est ma faute

Que je sois heureuse ou fâchée, ça dépend pas d’un autre.


Alors je continue, mal au coeur, mal au ventre

Mais écoute-moi bien, c’est sûr que j’y rentre.