I was remembering the day I fall in love. The day my dad told me about a trip. A trip to a country not far away from England. At first, I was thinking about Scotland, and I've never heard about the Esmerald Isle before. I was remembering the day I wrote my name in a piece of paper, concerning the trip.I was remembering the day I told my family. My GrandMother laughed, I was not laughing at all. No one really said anything. It was probably surprising. Everyone thought I was not able to do this. I did it.
I remember the 17th of August 2oo6, the day I left all of my friends, my family, everything. The day I took the plane for the first time of my life. I didn't realise that It would be the best day of my life yet. It was the day I fall in love and met my love. My only love.
Then, everything happened so fast, too fast. It was paradise. The country of Ireland was my paradise. Before, I was a stupid, immature girl, who didn't know anything about the real life. But when I came there, I was another girl. I was me. Natural, happy, mature, intelligent, me. I was in my element. I didn't call my parents, and they were very scared because of that. I was not thinking any moment to call them. I was so free, so me. Everything was so special, but so good to me. The people, mentality, life, music, the land, the land I love for the rest of my life. My soul is there. I know it. But I had to leave that. It came very fast, this fucking 30th of August 2oo6. It was the worse day of my life.
I had to make me a reason. I remember the day I cried in Yvonne's arms (my host mum). It was such a terrible day. All of my friends were crying too. It was the day I had to say goodbye to my life, to my paradise, to my love. You can't imagine one second what's hurts to pass to paradise at evil. For a girl aged 15, It's a sort of torture. No, It was. So I came back to France (or evil). The year 2oo6-2oo7 was more than evil (...) and summer 2oo7, I decided to go to Ireland again. And once again, there was a departure to Paradise and a come back to Evil.
Now. I turned 18. I'm different, so different. I'm not french anymore. I concidering myself like an irish girl. And my bestfriend (who is irish) thinks the same.Many people like my teachers, my family or my friends in France think that I'm very mature for my age. I'm not like the others bhoys and girls, I don't go to the party every night, I don't "fuck" with everybody... etc. Now I come back for the third time to my paradise.My GrandMother still laugh about that, but She kepts silence when I say "Oh and I'll make my life there, and if you disagree about that, it doesn't matter, it's not your problem, it's mine.You know what ? Mine your own business." I want to go back. J-30 now. Years passed but I still miss you. I'm waiting for that. To see you again. To feel free. To be me. To see the people, their loving smile. I know I'll be right back. I just have to wait, just for a couple of weeks. I waited for a long time, I can wait again.
I remember the 17th of August 2oo6, the day I left all of my friends, my family, everything. The day I took the plane for the first time of my life. I didn't realise that It would be the best day of my life yet. It was the day I fall in love and met my love. My only love.
Then, everything happened so fast, too fast. It was paradise. The country of Ireland was my paradise. Before, I was a stupid, immature girl, who didn't know anything about the real life. But when I came there, I was another girl. I was me. Natural, happy, mature, intelligent, me. I was in my element. I didn't call my parents, and they were very scared because of that. I was not thinking any moment to call them. I was so free, so me. Everything was so special, but so good to me. The people, mentality, life, music, the land, the land I love for the rest of my life. My soul is there. I know it. But I had to leave that. It came very fast, this fucking 30th of August 2oo6. It was the worse day of my life.
I had to make me a reason. I remember the day I cried in Yvonne's arms (my host mum). It was such a terrible day. All of my friends were crying too. It was the day I had to say goodbye to my life, to my paradise, to my love. You can't imagine one second what's hurts to pass to paradise at evil. For a girl aged 15, It's a sort of torture. No, It was. So I came back to France (or evil). The year 2oo6-2oo7 was more than evil (...) and summer 2oo7, I decided to go to Ireland again. And once again, there was a departure to Paradise and a come back to Evil.
Now. I turned 18. I'm different, so different. I'm not french anymore. I concidering myself like an irish girl. And my bestfriend (who is irish) thinks the same.Many people like my teachers, my family or my friends in France think that I'm very mature for my age. I'm not like the others bhoys and girls, I don't go to the party every night, I don't "fuck" with everybody... etc. Now I come back for the third time to my paradise.My GrandMother still laugh about that, but She kepts silence when I say "Oh and I'll make my life there, and if you disagree about that, it doesn't matter, it's not your problem, it's mine.You know what ? Mine your own business." I want to go back. J-30 now. Years passed but I still miss you. I'm waiting for that. To see you again. To feel free. To be me. To see the people, their loving smile. I know I'll be right back. I just have to wait, just for a couple of weeks. I waited for a long time, I can wait again.
I love you.
