houuuuu ^^
mon pauvre crayon...
mon pauvre crayon...
Son profil
Toidi
22 ans
Dijon
(21)
France
cours de linguistique
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[ 8 commentaires ]
# Posté le jeudi 01 novembre 2007 06:28
cours de civilisation
au stylo plume celui-ci... j'ai pas trouvé d'idées pour la 3e vignette, alors si vous avez ds propositions, n'hésitez pas :)
# Posté le jeudi 01 novembre 2007 06:32
The novel is a fiction without any mistakes =P
Voilà mon texte tout beau tout propre! Un grand merci à ☆Shannon Dobson☆ et ◎Dominique De Vastey◎qui ont lu et apprécié mon travail =) USA en force!!! Elles vont me manquer ces deux-là =S snif... merci les filles !
Alors voilà, it's not a novel, mais j'ai la flemme de le continuer :P à suivre... ou pas mdr
I had always been strong. I had learned to never give up, and I had always fought with all my strength, all my heart, even my soul. I gave all I had. My courage was always torn between risks and the will to win, the desire for victory. But without danger, there can be no victory.
My first fight was, I suppose, common to all, and it was called love. Who has never wanted true love? Who has never wanted to feel the need to clutch to a person who breaks your defenses and the armour of self-protection you've had so much diffculty to build, and who makes you so vulnerable and naive that you forget you can get hurt? I didn't want to be weak, but it seems that even strong people are dying to know what it feels like. Trying to please, giving more than receiving, being equal to the situation, showing, touching, and eventually feeling what makes us sink deep into intense happiness where we lose ourselves. And from that moment on, you never stop fighting. Jealousy, over-protection. You fight to be loved in return, you fight not to be hurt, and curiously you fight to win back the person who made you lose your dignity, you fight to forget. But as exhausting as they seem, all our efforts are in vain, for our first love is always our last. I didn't retreat. I didn't surrender. As time passes, a grudge is slowly swallowing the forever burning love that sruggles in me. I will not let it. Another fight against myself and the reality I had to face and to accept. But I didn't retreat. I didn't surrender. I'm still waiting.
The second fight was against feelings. My own feelings, to be more precise. As far as I can remember, I've always been overwhelmed by the fear of being rejected and feeling guilty. I had this obsession to foresee what people would say and how they would react to my actions and words. This frustration led me to the misapprehension that I could change things, and so make them happen the way I wanted them to. If I did this, people would do that. What was the right thing to do? Who did I want to satisfy the most between the people around me and myself? Would someone get hurt? I found out that fights were all about pain, and if someone was in trouble because of what I might have done wrong, even with all the thinking, I would blame myself and sacrifice my pride into the most heart-breaking apologies ever. Why? Because I wanted people to know that I was a good person - at least I was trying to be, and above all I did not want to be excluded. As human beings, we all have a conscious that tells us we need other members of our species to survive. Indifference and intolerance are much more cruel than we think they are. Which leads me to my third fight.
Disease. I should in fact have started there, but with a second reading it will all make sense, for the previous fights ensue from the third. The reason why I put it in the third position is that I consider it less important, as it is physical. To be honest, I did not suffer from the disease itself, but from what other people thought and said. Lack of self-confidence, withdrawal: I was convinced that not a soul on earth would ever even like me. Fortunately I had some talents, which of course, at first, I did not dare to express. But when i grew up, I decided to let them out. First it was a drawing, then a poem. People started to whisper my name, and when they asked me to sing, the number of acquaintances increased as quickly as my fingers ran along my guitar's neck. I wondered what was so amazing about me. I only saw a sick person where others saw a shy and sensitive but talented friend. Some forgot me long ago. But those who stayed proved to be my true friends and helped me in so many ways that they can not imagine how grateful I am. I wish I could tell them how important they were to me, so important that I will watch over every single one of them. Every day and every night until they rejoin me.
For my fourth and last fight is over. This is the fight everyone fears, and I would be lying if I told you I was not afraid too. We are all afraid of things we do not know, but what you must know is that this place is so incredibly peaceful that no one ever returned. I do not think I would return either. In fact I intend not to and I cannot. However, there are things I still regret. I wanted to tell my sisters to stop arguing, I wanted to tell my little brother not to grow up too fast, I wanted to tell my parents that I didn't hate them for real, I wanted to tell my friends to keep up the good work and to remember me... I wanted to tell her that I had loved her more than anyone else in this world, and her name had been the last sigh I had given.
I do not know if I won that fight, but whoever reads this, remember never to give up. Fighting is always worth something.
Alors voilà, it's not a novel, mais j'ai la flemme de le continuer :P à suivre... ou pas mdr
I had always been strong. I had learned to never give up, and I had always fought with all my strength, all my heart, even my soul. I gave all I had. My courage was always torn between risks and the will to win, the desire for victory. But without danger, there can be no victory.
My first fight was, I suppose, common to all, and it was called love. Who has never wanted true love? Who has never wanted to feel the need to clutch to a person who breaks your defenses and the armour of self-protection you've had so much diffculty to build, and who makes you so vulnerable and naive that you forget you can get hurt? I didn't want to be weak, but it seems that even strong people are dying to know what it feels like. Trying to please, giving more than receiving, being equal to the situation, showing, touching, and eventually feeling what makes us sink deep into intense happiness where we lose ourselves. And from that moment on, you never stop fighting. Jealousy, over-protection. You fight to be loved in return, you fight not to be hurt, and curiously you fight to win back the person who made you lose your dignity, you fight to forget. But as exhausting as they seem, all our efforts are in vain, for our first love is always our last. I didn't retreat. I didn't surrender. As time passes, a grudge is slowly swallowing the forever burning love that sruggles in me. I will not let it. Another fight against myself and the reality I had to face and to accept. But I didn't retreat. I didn't surrender. I'm still waiting.
The second fight was against feelings. My own feelings, to be more precise. As far as I can remember, I've always been overwhelmed by the fear of being rejected and feeling guilty. I had this obsession to foresee what people would say and how they would react to my actions and words. This frustration led me to the misapprehension that I could change things, and so make them happen the way I wanted them to. If I did this, people would do that. What was the right thing to do? Who did I want to satisfy the most between the people around me and myself? Would someone get hurt? I found out that fights were all about pain, and if someone was in trouble because of what I might have done wrong, even with all the thinking, I would blame myself and sacrifice my pride into the most heart-breaking apologies ever. Why? Because I wanted people to know that I was a good person - at least I was trying to be, and above all I did not want to be excluded. As human beings, we all have a conscious that tells us we need other members of our species to survive. Indifference and intolerance are much more cruel than we think they are. Which leads me to my third fight.
Disease. I should in fact have started there, but with a second reading it will all make sense, for the previous fights ensue from the third. The reason why I put it in the third position is that I consider it less important, as it is physical. To be honest, I did not suffer from the disease itself, but from what other people thought and said. Lack of self-confidence, withdrawal: I was convinced that not a soul on earth would ever even like me. Fortunately I had some talents, which of course, at first, I did not dare to express. But when i grew up, I decided to let them out. First it was a drawing, then a poem. People started to whisper my name, and when they asked me to sing, the number of acquaintances increased as quickly as my fingers ran along my guitar's neck. I wondered what was so amazing about me. I only saw a sick person where others saw a shy and sensitive but talented friend. Some forgot me long ago. But those who stayed proved to be my true friends and helped me in so many ways that they can not imagine how grateful I am. I wish I could tell them how important they were to me, so important that I will watch over every single one of them. Every day and every night until they rejoin me.
For my fourth and last fight is over. This is the fight everyone fears, and I would be lying if I told you I was not afraid too. We are all afraid of things we do not know, but what you must know is that this place is so incredibly peaceful that no one ever returned. I do not think I would return either. In fact I intend not to and I cannot. However, there are things I still regret. I wanted to tell my sisters to stop arguing, I wanted to tell my little brother not to grow up too fast, I wanted to tell my parents that I didn't hate them for real, I wanted to tell my friends to keep up the good work and to remember me... I wanted to tell her that I had loved her more than anyone else in this world, and her name had been the last sigh I had given.
I do not know if I won that fight, but whoever reads this, remember never to give up. Fighting is always worth something.
＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊
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[ 6 commentaires ]
# Posté le vendredi 09 novembre 2007 16:33
Modifié le vendredi 09 novembre 2007 16:49
cours de grammaire
- Please don't eat me! :'(
- Don't worry little one! I'm a vegetarian lion! ;)
- Naah, just kidding =P
- Bastard...
- Don't worry little one! I'm a vegetarian lion! ;)
- Naah, just kidding =P
- Bastard...
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[ 7 commentaires ]
# Posté le dimanche 11 novembre 2007 10:57
cours de thème oral
Hole Sweet Hole =P
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[ 6 commentaires ]
# Posté le jeudi 22 novembre 2007 16:52
Modifié le vendredi 30 novembre 2007 12:32
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