Excerpt 19.

I kept a hidden part of you.

That feeling on my skin

Like shivers down my spine

When I enter a used bookstore

And land my eyes on the one

The one I know I wont resist

And bring back home with me

To love, to read all night till insanity 

And leave there on the shelf

As a memory of its feeling.

I kept a hidden part of you.

On the top shelf, next to the others.

The ones I’ll also never really read.


Excerpt 0

I let it sink in.
I sigh. I grieve.
Stuck on a white page.
Except I don’t fight anymore.
Letting go.

I used all my words already.
I used a thousand muses.
To help me spit words.
Words, sentences, feelings
Hate, love, tears, fears
Nothing worked.

You felt like safety.
An easy cruel way to feel free.
A no expectation, no deception reality
You were the shovel to my own hole.
You just stared as I digged.

I saw light.
It shut itself on me.
For I had given to much time.
Feeding the hopeless darkness
I used to feel safer.
Safer than trusting time.

It is a shame.
That I see beauty in everything.
I wish I could shut down.
Just once in a while.
And not feel deeply.
Like most people, I guess.

We were never meant to hold on.
None of us.
There is no good night for you anymore.
All I can think is goodbye.
All that is left is silence.
For I lost too much words already.
I can’t even make intense sentences.
Or pick up violent words.
I am all that is left.
So I swallow my pride.
Forget my ego one last time.

And I want you to know.
You brought light.
I want you to know.
Your mattered.
So much more than you think
So much more than they understand.
And, I want him to know.
He would have come first.

I want me to know
I matter. – We accept the love we think we deserve-,
And we were never meant to hold on.
In no kind of ways.


My naive guidance.

This is a very non-typical post for me to do. I get very personal and talk about my family.

I like to write in English. I don’t know why. It is a different mood for me. And a lot of intense moment in my life happened in English and I had to express myself to people who did not speak French. I don’t now if it is linked. I don’t care. I have no explanation to give.

Something weird happened a little earlier. I saw a Facebook post I found interesting. It was about these people who tell you what you need to hear and not what you want to hear.

I liked the post. Then I thought; I’m going to tag my dad.

So far nothing too weird. Expect my dad passed away 9 years ago.

It brought me to think about how someone’s words can impact you forever. Even after they are gone. People speak and don’t even realise the power words can hold. No wonder I am so IN LOVE with writing and words.

It also brought me a lot of thinking about life after death. About Love. About how my dad had and still has an impact, a guidance in my life. I have been lucky enough I guess, to have crossed path with many people telling me they are ‘’psychics’’. Each one of these people talked to me about my dad even before I mentioned him.

Some people tell me it is a way for me to grieve. And it is okay to think this way. Personally, I don’t believe that spirits manifest themselves like ghost moving stuff etc… But I do believe in a love so pure that even death can’t break it.

I never lived a love like that. I will be honest. I mean, I have never lived THE TRUE LOVE OF MY LIFE. I love my friends and family, for sure.

But I have witnessed it. The pure authentic love between two people. Mothers have this kind of love, most of the time, for their child. My mom has it. The lucky part of my life is, my dad also had it.

I have seen him. Half paralyzed. In a wheel chair. Cancer all over his head. Looking at my mom walking saying: Oh my god. I love her. I am the luckiest men who have Grace this earth. I have the best women in my life. Your mom, your sister, you.

And his head shaved, sewed, his overweight due to medication, his blue eye half closed due to the 1st operation, his whole being having nothing to do but wait for death. I saw my mom. Staring at him, like a teen. Saying: Oh my god, this man is so beautiful. Even in this condition; He shines.

No shit that I ended up believing in fairy tales and love despite my own love histories.

In those 9 years. My mom has been graced again by another pure love. Someone who never stopped loving her his entire life. Someone who waited, and accepted to be the one  »after my dad ». Someone who also waited for the stubborn angry teen that I was to be ready to open up and accept him as a new member of the family. A naïve part of me believes strongly that my dad wished for his presence in my mom’s life. As she is a person on this planet who, according to me, deserves that kind of unconditionnal love. Everyone does. But this woman, my mom, is, to my eyes, an angel, with her own flaws, and I am forever grategul to have her as a women of influence in my life.

My sister has lived many changes as well. Changes that at first seemed to be way too intense and out of control. But I can tell as someone who has always known her, that these changes brought the best of her out. Never have I been so close to my sister than on these moments when she needed me, as I was used to nonesense spontaneous changes. And then me needing her, as I a big sister telling me, it is ok to be lost and to crave stability. I love to believe my dad was involed into all of these mid life crisis my sister and I had. Because I know the foundations of those crisis. I won’t share it here thought. My sister is another great influence in my life. And I think the way we both witnessed love brought us to truly care about eachothers. I am forever grateful to have this best friend relation with this strong woman.

Anyways. I will be naïve. But I really like to think that at this exact moment tonight. I thought about that man, my dad,  because some answers I am looking for, he gave it to me and right now, he wanted me to remember about these key sentences he said before he left us.

I don’t care about logics. Sometimes we need that kind of magic. And I am lucky enough to have these magical moments in my life.

I made love with my scars.

I don’t know what happened lately. I was not able to be proud of myself. It is like the bubbly, think positive, proud of my achievements and pro authenticity Sophie was gone for a long, long sleep. I always speak about being proud of our path regardless of the choices and battles that we had in our life.

I had different things happenings lately. Nothing important.  I guess I was maybe tired. Summer ending quite quickly, my car keeps having unexpected breakage, lots of work and studies. I find hard to connect with people even thought I have wonderful relations with my close friends and family. I didn’t go to the gym for 3 weeks now, because it is just too easy to justify not going to the gym, isn’t it?

I started doubting things in my life. Not my current life, I love my life. My past life. Being upset about old things. Old choices. Trying to imagine how things would be. If my life would have been maybe better. Maybe worst.

I recently lived a kind of rejection, which is fine, but the person used a story from my past as a justification and it just ended up being the rotten cherry on top of my badly fogged mind.

Sentences like: ‘’there is no failures, only learnings’’ or ‘’what must happen, happens for a reason’’ made no senses to me anymore in the last weeks.

I was trying to seek explanations for useless concerns I have and trying to convince me that I brought myself to be worthless and unworthy. And that self sabotage would be the explanation to me being tired. (As if I had never heard of vitamin D before…)

I was telling myself these kinds of ugly lies. Lies are like diseases.

Today I forced myself in a day off. I went for a hike. I hesitated between 2 trails. I picked the easiest one and forgot the paper with the name at home. So, I entered the hard one in my gps. I ended up at a 16 km trail. The first part was amazing. There was so many waterfalls.

Then suddenly it was long and hard. I had bad cardio. I was tired. I fell a couple of time and was scratched everywhere. A man looked at my dog and I, he laughed. He said we should considerate doing only a half trail as I don’t have a ‘’hiking type of dog’’ and I was scratched all over from the ‘’easy part’’ of the trail.

At some point, I got lost out of the trail and thought I should as well go back, indeed. I had seen enough beautiful things, anyways didn’t I?  I saw a map on a tree. Walked all the way to it. There was a sight view at 3km up.  My puppy looked at me and started running up the trail. I followed.

Up there were endless mountains with colorful trees. A breath taking view. The sky was the bluest. Nature was playing its nice sounds and finally some wind made the temperature bearable. I heard my favourite bird sing. I don’t know what bird it is, I only know its sound. I gave water to my dog and sat.

Busted in tears. It is hard to admitt because it means I accept to be vulnerable.

I was just happy we had walked all the way up here. And I was so exhausted. I cried so much I double checked if I was maybe just in my period, hahaha…

‘’ Tomorrow when I’ll be too sore to function normally I will think of this’’ I thought.

And stopped crying.

How did I dare be so mean to myself in the past weeks?

I am so glad of everything I have achieved in my life and things I have learned from my battles. I am so grateful of my choices, good or bad. I am aware of the beautiful things I must offer to this world from these experiences. I am a result of these things that made who I am now. I don’t regret my past experiences. I never did. Why would I now? I would not be able to be me without this past…and I am great. If not, it is the future that I will create and not the past that would arrange this.

I felt a sort of relief. The kind of well being you only feel when you get an orgasm. I forgave myself for my dark thoughts about myself.

I had just made love to my scars.

The walk back was easier. I even splashed chilly water from the water fall all over my face and clothes.
Once back at the car someone said

‘’    – That tiny dog didn’t hike all the way to the waterfalls?

  • No, she did the whole trail.
  • You did the entire trail? You know, it is easier from the other side …
  • But this way so worthy…’’

I wave to my little monster to hop in the car. She jumped in, Then hopped on my seat. Then on hers.
I opened the windows, opened the radio, and drove off with the loudest ‘’here comes the sun’’ from The Beatles that you have ever heard in your life.

Excerpt 18/ Extrait 18

It’s been winter forever now
And the walls I have been building
Are now covered in thick ice.
There would be no sunlight
If I had not been there myself.

Even when it is not about you- it is.
You selfish cold-hearted people.
Taking credits even without knowing it
Life knows what to do, he wisely said
And I repeated to everyone, with love I did

You all never deserved my words.
Never wanted it anyways.
Fuck off once for good.
My strength is bigger than your fucking egos
And you deserve no more than your loneliness

Get yourself some excuses
Spread your infected venom between their legs
And watch me laugh
Knowing I had the cure.
And you spat on it.

Team up with the devil
Watch the tower burn
It is me who set fire in it
Fire doesn’t scare me
I come from hell myself

I have been practicing my rebirth
For the entire winter now.
You can’t conquer the world
With some weak and fireless army
You can’t conquer me neither.

For I am the world. And I am Winter.

First times.- Words Spitting

First time we met?

I was just curious. I didn’t care. I made on purpose to be effortless. Oversized grey T shirt. The unperfect jeans. Grey flowered earring. With a tiny diamond in the middle. I have those earrings in 3 colors. I did put some mascara on. Messy hair as usual. My perfume was Daisy Fresh, by Marc Jacob. I like this edition in the summer. I didn’t pay attention to where I put the perfume. I just sprayed it on my clothes. The weather was starting to be warmer as may was about to get there. I had a white tank top under my t-shirt. Not the kind of tank top that make you look like an effortless beauty goddess. The kind that you keep only to wear under your clothes. The problem when you go over confident, is that you don’t expect these things to happen. I remember walking the 9 minutes walks at the speed of light and slowing down at the end, so that if you see me, you don’t think I was excited to meet. I also had shit cardio. I was already trying to find excuses to leave. My parking is about to expire was the first one I would say.

I Entered the place with all my bags. I remember feeling something stranger behind me. I turned around to a human masterpiece. With the deepest eyes and the most perfect smile I had been given to see in a while. A very soft but none arrogant confidence. Confidence way more honest than mine.

‘’Shit- fuck. Damn. Caliss.’’, I thought.

My look, I regretted. My phoney excuses, I forgot. I removed my oversized grey shirt. It was the first time I finished work before the sun goes down. I felt the warmth on my shoulders and I forgot everything else that was not related to the way it shined. That, and the way the perfect smile was appearing in between two words.

‘’Yes, I have time for coffee.’’


The first time we met? I had a vibrant blue dress. Strapless dress with flowers on the waist. My hair was so fluffy, I didn’t know what to do with it. I had a pair of golden earrings in shape of drops. There used to be a fake diamond in the middle of both but one fell so I removed the other one. I remember I had a hard week and made it quick to get there. It was beginning of June and It was very hot outside. I texted my sister if my dress was too much to just, go to a friend’s house. She said no, she knew what the dress looked like. So, I put the original Daisy by Marc Jacob on me. A spray behind my ears. A spray on my wrists. My friend had given me what was left of her bottle. We had the same perfume. And I had no money to buy any. I was then not very comfortable with makeup. I was in a weird phase where I needed to find myself. I barely had mascara on. And a little of blush I regretted as soon as I closed the door behind me. I was a little nervous, because the situation was awkward. I had little confidence at the time. But I always loved to feel my heart race in front of the unknown. Like an adrenaline rush that I both love and hate. I had lived changes in my life just few months ago.

I was removing my shoes on the entrance carpet. Black faux leather flip-flops they were. I had no idea there was another person in the place. The couch was against the wall of the living room, right next to the short hallway that brings the people from the entrance to the living room, passing by the kitchen. With a very uninterested face he got up, shook my hand, said in an uninterested voice:

‘’Hi-I don’t speak French.’’

I thought; ‘’Fuck French- you have the bluest eyes.’’

But in reality, I said: ‘’Hi- It is ok. ‘’

It was the kind of eyes that makes a girl want to text her best friend to giggle like some 16 years old teen. But I thought it could be a reflection from his blue shirt, so I texted no one. What I liked about his bored uninterested face, was how, when something was funny, its whole structure was changing and suddenly, his whole face was a burst of light. Every time it was a pleasant surprise to look at and when it happens, you have no other choices than to smile too.  But I was not there for these reasons. So, I sat on the other couch. And looked away.

Leather couches are not great in heat seasons.


The first time we met?

It was the evening. A little earlier I texted my friend 2 sets of outfits. She told me the Greyish dress with the black leggings and the grey woolen vest was the better one. So, this is what I wore. I like to shop alone and be independent, but when it is about anything related to relations or acting normal, I suck at it. I took time to shower, shave, exfoliate, moisturise. I was a lot more confident with myself and at ease with my beauty skills. I had a light foundation and blush on my face, eyeliner and mascara. I curled my hair with an iron. Hoped for it to stay that way all night. I had grey pearled earrings. It was dark outside and I had a coat on.  I was walking my dog. I did not speak English in a while but I was not that nervous. I am always less nervous when I have no expectations. I saw him walking towards me, he was tall. He had only a red T-shirt on. He didn’t know that in Quebec, the weather is very unstable, especially in autumn. I scanned him from head to toes. From his blue eyes to his cheeky smile all the way down to his converse shoes. He said something in an accent I had never heard before. I had never met anyone from that part of the UK before.

‘’Oh my god, this is horrible, I don’t understand. Or maybe it is fun. I don’t know – Hi’’, were my first words.

‘’Fucking UK boys’’ I truly thought.

The first time we met? I probably had a weird feeling about you. I probably knew a while before we met, that someone like you would show up into my life. I mean as someone who would impact my way to see the world, and the way I think. It happens with my friendships as well. When I frown the first time I meet someone, it either means that I already know the person in an unexplainable way, or that the person will impact me one day. With a sentence, or an action. Or a deeper connection.  Maybe you just had a thing I had never experienced before, that will inspire one of my future writing.

And I probably remember some random details about that moment. Like the way I was dressed. How I got ready before I left my house. The first words I said. The first thing I thought. Maybe the song I heard on my way to the place we first saw each other. It is very possible that I went to very open to super cold a couple of times. Because I am so super scared to open myself.

I don’t know how to explain it. And I don’t want to explain it. I don’t have to.

It is my secret sides of my stories. (And this text is getting no where. I just need to spit words.)

Excerpt 17 / Extrait 17

I like what is not meant to be perfect

Weakness slowly showed under a trust moment

Few uncontrolled words quietly spoken

Heads on the pillow, arms tangled

Blades of Authenticity stabbing pride

In a time, we all know is not meant to last.


White sun over a noisy city,

Bad coffee sweetened

By tired dark almond shaped eyes.

In a freezing morning of July

Dancing like nonesence

In the secret of our self made theories


Morning perfumed

With glowing feelings

Purple lilacs taking over the city

Black little dress, stained with loud thoughts

From hardly worked connections we know are worth bullshit

But still hang on, because we both love rainy days


Fucked up respect

For the stubbornness arrogance

Coming from both our careless childish laugh

That I know will end up being the death of us


I’ve got love-hate feelings

For random lessons.

Random people.

Chosen and unchosen goodbyes


-You need to impose your worth.


And this time

A love-hate decision

With a bitter sweet taste

And a forced strength

I choose to crawl forward

And really kiss goodnight


I liked you, at time loved and hated you, still do

Will always do.

This is mine. My beautiful side of our stories.

Half Legit, half recreated and rewritten

But it is the worth I decided to give it.

It is the side of the stories I am worthy of.

It is ok, I love what is not meant to be perfect.

F*ck off russian doll; the anxiety attack.

I would have loved to take an hour to pick up an outfitt. But I don’t care enough anymore. I didn’t change twice, I wore what I wore all day. I didn’t think about what shoes I should wear. Flats. I brushed my hair quickly. Didn’t bother putting perfume on my neck, somewhere between my ears and my shoulder. I even forgot to moisturize my lips.

Anyways he was not from here and was about to leave. So, we would basically meet, speak, leave then adios. Keep in touch on our birthdays when facebook will remind us. If we add eachothers as friends. Otherwise, he was kind of cool.

French music in the background, I asked that he doesn’t take the beer named like my mom. The place was nice, but empty. As I wondered why I even bother meeting with people that I know won’t stay, I remembered that it is the exact reason why. When you know things won’t work and people are going to leave, you care less, you don’t fear pain. Fact.

I looked up to see if he had blue eyes or brown eyes and I saw that thing on the wall. A giant painting. Chubby cheeks and round body. Black on white. A giant Russian doll was staring at me.

 »Leave me alone, judgmental Russian doll », I thought

I could barely hear what my friend was saying. I smiled and acknowledged here and there, all I could think about was the Russian doll. I almost heard her accent telling me:
‘’ Your opinion is of no importance to me. ‘’ and I hated her for that.

She also reminded me of that French movie ‘’ Les poupées Russes’’. The main character compares his love life to a Russian doll, he has to the open each dolls until he reaches the last one. The good one.

But, What if you get to the last doll and you still don’t feel THE thing. I froze. I felt shivers up my spine and a pinch in my chest. My heart stopped beating in my chest, instead it was beating right between my ears. Fuck you French movie, fuck you Russian doll painting.

I managed to get back to my friend and followed the conversation until he went to the bathroom. I was left there, alone, the Russian doll smirking at me. I tried to look around, there were plants, cactus in wooden boxes, the waiter was cleaning a table with a lifeless face. Maybe the Russian doll stole his soul.

-‘’You’re okay?’’ ,he asked

(No. I am not okay. The Russian doll gives my anxiety. She reminds me how we, sometimes, sabotage our own happiness. She reminds me how hard 2017 is for overthinking hopeless romantic ladies. She reminds me that I can say I am strong, be strong feel strong, that I don’t need anyone, that time will do things and all that jazz we repeat after reading it in spiritual life blabla books, still once in a while, fear is stronger.

She reminds me that I am studying nutrition but still ate 5 cheesecakes bars today. She is clearly playing some fucked up game with my head right now, look at her. Look at her.

She wants me to open her layers until I get to the end, so that she can laugh at how I get more and more affraid each time one of her layer is not the good one. Or maybe she wants me to open all of my layers until none are left. Until I become so vulnerable that I will be the smallest ever.

She takes all of the place. The entire wall. My whole vision. And if I ask someone to remove her, or if I change place, she will still be there. At the back of my head, with her stupid chubby cheeks and her smirking smile telling me that maybe there is better under, but maybe this is it. That I should excel in every aspect of my life. That I should be stronger, stonger always stronger.

I hate her. I hate everything she is. Everything she represents to my eyes at this exact moment. And right now, this is the beginning of a panic attack, an anxiety you can’t understand, because to you this is just a stupid painting and I am, right now, an over drama queen who is freaking about this painting, imagining that its only purpose is to remind me things I tend to push away. Fuck you, Russian doll.)

-‘’ Sure, just a little tired ‘’, I smiled


Coffee talk.

« You remember that kind of stuff because you are much closer to your feelings. Like.. I don’t remember what you were wearing the first time we met… »

A blue dress. I was wearing a blue dress with matching silver and blue earrings. I remember you noticed that the blue on my earrings was the same than my dress while you moved my hair behind my ear. You had changed side of the table because the place was noisy. I thought, and still think, you just wanted to find a way to get closer to me. Also, When I told you green was my favourite color, you asked why was I wearing a blue dress and not a green one. I smiled. But the answer was, because it is matching my eyes.

I also had black heels. Heels I did not want to wear but my friend reminded me I could rock the feminine and ladylike style. Since, in a year, I have bought about 6 pairs of high heels shoes. And wear all of them regularly. My friend helped me pick my outfit. She also helped with my makeup. The exact morning before we met. That friend came to my apartment with a Starbucks Frappuccino for me. Then we went shopping.  She bought more things than I did, but I bought navy underwear’s. A 35 $ bra I also have in black shade now. I bought the bottom the same day. Otherwise I had no underwear to be proud of if I ever let you undress me.

 It was a very chilly day despite the fact we were already in May. I had to wear a grey coat. You wore a leather jacket that, later, you offered to me because I was still cold. Your black coat was matching my purse that you held later from the coffee shop to your car. Before we chose that place, you asked if I had troubles with a having coffee in a multinational. If I’d rather have a coffee at an independent. My nails were painted light pink. And my perfume was Daisy by Marc Jacob. It still is a year later.  I don’t remember these details because you mattered more than the others. I regularly remember those kind of details…I make these moment counts., I make people count, because being cold hearted and not give a fuck is a lot more intolerable and exhausting to me than feeling a thousand heartbreaking emotions at the same time.

Also, don’t you go and think me remembering these details will make me want to open my door if you show up at 2 am. These are the reasons I will double lock the entire place. Unless you have a coffee for me, no milk, no sugar. 

« I doubt that you fucked that girl. I’m quite sure SHE fucked you. »

I met this girl once.

Actually I lived with her. Back in Australia. She was one of those woman who could not care less about other people’s opinion. 

She had lived and seen. She knew how to enjoy herself and how to speak her mind. When she wanted someone to fuck off, they would fuck off. When she didnt like her steak, she would not pay for it. 

But she was not a bitch. She was always explaining herself untill people were crossing the limit. Observing her, I realised how beautiful and powerful staying calm but clear can be. I was in a full growth learning phase, you see.

When there was another beautiful girl, she would tell the girl she is pretty. She had that confidence about her, she dint need to say another girl was too thin, etc. When someone was annoying her, she would warn them.

 She was laughing a lot with me.
I was then a very not grounded 21 years old backpacker. Alone in another country. Country I loved and will always love. 

When we were going out, she was often backing me up whenever I was feeling harassed and did not know how to deal with the situation. Young man, old man , big fucking gorilla, she didnt care. No was no. Fuck off was fuck off. She showed me how to play pool and how to drink beer.  She supported me when I felt homesick. She gave me a birthday cake. She became a big sister for the time we lived together.

She had an irish accent. And was not wearing any makeup. Sometimes she was not wearing any undies under her long hippie skirt. She was very independant. She could have judge me and where I was in life.  But she never did. She was a little older. She had seen others, I guess.

I remember one time she had sex all night with someone she met at the bar. In a two streets city full of travelers, everyone knows who sleep with who. You learn to not give a damn.

Next morning we worked together at the restaurant facing the beach. The guy she had sex with,  like guys enjoy doing, proudly told someone  » mate, I fucked that girl last night. », pointing at my friend.

Someone replied with a smirk,

 « I doubt that you fucked THAT girl. I’m quite sure SHE fucked you. »

She laughed.  

That is how powerful, solidary and authentic I would like every woman to be.