Climb out over me.
So, Paris. Nice, safe, familiar Paris. Yet again, I have another chance to start again. Nobody here bar Lucien and Gerard really knows me, they don't know much about me or what's happened in the last five years or so.
I have yet to find out if this is a good thing or not, because I don't have to talk about it, I don't have people asking me every time I'm just thinking if I'm okay. But nobody knows, and at some point it will come up. Someone will ask about my wedding ring and why I've never mentioned my wife. Someone will ask these things, and that's rather a conversation destroyer, oh my wife's dead.
This is, of course, provided that I can get a job. Three interviews, three polite declinations. And I'm only three months into this. I do have one with the French Ministry next week, though, that could be interesting, given they rejected me back when I was 19. please, don't let me fail again. I can't be rejected once more. It can't keep happening. I've always been rejected, and now it's coming back. I need this more than ever right now.
And then there's the news. Or at least what I'm getting from French papers about it. Hestia...Riley, they're all in the middle of that. Dieu, I just don't want them to get hurt, is that too much to ask? Is that too much to ask of a society, to get it's fucking act together and start treating each other with some respect and dignity. And this is coming from the country you ladies across the channel think is outstandingly rude and arrogant.
I'm scared. I'm really fucking scared for them and I can't do a thing. But maybe that's better than cocking all this mess up. Maybe that's better than getting my hands dirty with their blood again.
Just give in and fucking run, you two.
Except they won't, and I know they're doing the right thing there too. I just wish they wouldn't.
So I'm a coward. But that doesn't mean I don't believe in everyone of them. I just don't believe in myself and my ability to help them with anything. So I will stand back as gracefully as a coward can manage and let them do what they must, what they are compelled to do.
Still, I miss Nick desperately. I miss him with every part of me and I'm not even sure what to think of that conversation, way back, last year. I just need someone to confess my soul to, someone who really understands this.
I need to feel less fucking alone in this city. And my flat is so fucking cold.
Hello there. I'm not even sure what to say, how to start this. I just wanted to know how you were, I guess. I just wanted to talk, about anything, doesn't have to be deep or wise. Just something.
Well, that was a feeble attempt at something. Sorry.
Abime.
I'm sorry, you know, and I always will be. I believe in you and if you ever need anything, I am here. I can't say this enough.
It's far too cold here, and I'm not entirely sure why. Could just be my flat. Anything interesting going off?