la petite moi

10 years ago: I was 10 years old. I was dealing with abusive parents, stretched thin doing their bidding, and just learning about my sexuality from a tragic situation. I was unhappy.

5 years ago: My mother and father were confronted about their abuse and ordered to stop (or be sent to jail). I finally started doing my own thing, which was difficult because I had no understanding about control. I had no self-respect. I was anorexic, bulimic, a compulsive eater, a depressed and sad human being. I had no hope for my future at the time. I told myself at age 20 I would kill myself (as I nervously await my 20th birthday, which is coming on the 22 in three days). I was a poet, a writer, an artist. Beautiful and perfect. I was in love with my friends, my gang, my hooligan buddies. I loved a boy, then a girl, then a boy.

5 years from now: Who knows these days? I will be married. Maybe I'll have a failed pregnancy. Maybe I'll have a baby. Maybe my cat will be dead (but I doubt it). But hopefully I'll be out of university. I'll be succeeding in a job I enjoy. Hopefully. And I'll have gone back to France and become even more hopelessly entangled in the French culture that I love.

10 years from now: I'll be mother, a lover, a wife. I will have memories to look back on. I'll be making money, or creating happiness. It depends on the path I choose for myself.