wounded.

She told you she was in pain, but you kept on walking away from her as if you hadn’t heard her. She followed you & said it again “it’ hurts”… You didn’t give two shits about it… Was it a smile she saw on your face? Since when did your Goodbye kisses become Handshakes? A small joke… It was just a small stupid freaking joke…She thought since you were always the one turning everything into a joke… That she had the total right to joke too… But girl… that’s just how rude boys play. She’ll pretend it doesn’t hurt. She’ll pretend the scar won’t stay. She’ll pretend you didn’t hurt her… But…she thinks it’d be better if you left your ego home next time you come & visit… if you ever come & visit again.

no, no u don’t make me smile.

Some problems are there to remind you that at the end you’re totally on your own against the world. Everyone cares about small problems, every one’s there to help. so you feel loved… but then big problems come. So you go to the same people… And only one or two are there to help. that’s why it all feels like in a lily allen song to know there’s someone who cares… that even when most people only laugh at what makes me cry, when i sit on this fucking wall starring at my contact list realizing that not even one of all these names is gonna give a shit… but then you call. and even tho you laugh too, and i hang up because i want more attention, i know you’re gonna call back… and you do. and you’re still laughing and instead of being pissed again, i end up laughing too. But it’s stupid, it’s childish, it’s exactly like in this girly movies or quotes where they say « You’re the only one who makes me smile »…. i won’t say it, first because it’s kitsch; second, because you’re probably gonna think im silly at me if i tell you that. so no… no im not gonna tell you that you make me smile…

hating is bad for the salud.

i hate hate hate being sick. cause then being sick makes you hate everything else, i hate flowers today i hate smiles, i hate smells and i hate cars. i hate rain… i hate hating. i should start liking stuff like these people who are always smiling do. them people are just plain weird… or just annoying. they do their best to make you feel like they’re head & shoulders above you… but but… i’ m still hating. ugh. i guess it’s because i’m sick. someone told me once, that i feel like that, i should try to find something really beautiful and just talk about it… so… uhm… something beautiful… well, i like the fact that the world is so huge (even though facebook and haiti are making you feel like everyone’s very close to you and that there are no strangers…). Last summer, at a bus stop, there was that lady sitting next to me. There was no one else at the bus stop besides us,… and she started telling me about herself, suddenly, out of friggin’ nowhere… that she was at her friend’s house the night before, that she couldn’t believe the way that friend was acting that night… blah blah,… i sat and listened… she could’ve been telling me her greatest secrets… we both knew that 3 minutes after we wouldn’t even remember each other’s face. & in that same bus, i enjoyed starring at all these people i didn’t know… as if they were a boring movie that i was gonna forget as soon as it would end. i think the fact that there are so many people i don’t know is beautiful. it gives me hope… i don’t have to live with the certitude that everyone’s stupid… yea… whoa… here i am hating again.

pasta… memories… raviolis.

pasta nostra… i remember the day they opened it, francesco, the owner, had decided he’d give us all free pasta, that day. we felt cool didn’t we? we sat at the table, calm as angels, afraid to touch the white tablecloth… then one hour later, when the pasta bolognaise finally came, we couldn’t eat half of it… remember? It’s really not like it was a big deal but at least we were 10 years old, we were happy and knew nothing about nothing… one year after that, yah we were still babies… but we though we were way older, and at that that same restaurant… we were sitting at the same table, waiting for same pasta…playing Ni oui Ni non…Out loud. The parents wouldnt even bother saying shut up. If i only knew how much i was going to miss you, i would’ve never stopped playing… I wouldn’t have gone home… I wouldve kidnapped you. If i knew that the year after… you’d be gone… For four years ive been going to that restaurant… sitting at that same table, remembering the time where we were kids. I cried once… Yah… I’m not even ashamed of saying it… I could hear our voice paying that stupid Ni Oui Ni non game… « Tu as perduu!! Tu as di Oui… Non, c’est toi qui a dit oui… Regarde!! Tu viens de dire non… Hahaha »… Yah i could hear our voice in my head. I didnt even order, i just wanted to sit… Yesterday… i was passing by that same exact restaurant, as i do every time i go out. There was a huge truck in front of it, they were putting all the table in it, all the chairs, all the bottles, everything… You left, The restaurant left. All i have left is memories… I miss you so much.

same friday nights in these same streets.

Yesterday i decided to go hang downtown, to see how the streets were even though they told me no one was doing anything because apparently the whole town was in mourning. I still went… I was super weird because i was wearing super high heels and most of the streets still had blocs or even walls that were in the middle of the road… what could i say? i concluded id shut up and just climb the rocks with everyone looking at me with strange eyes. i love it! i love to be weird. The streets have a special smell… the smell of fritay.. fried plantains… fried pork meat… and all other sorts of fried oily fattening stuff… yumm 🙂 Every time we’d walk by one of the machann, Id turn to the guys and says «Fritayy…fritayy…». Not that i wanted to buy anything… I just wanted to let the whole universe know how magic i thought that smell was. The town was dead, (Capital D)… and unlike the other nights, the boys couldn’t make me walk too much because of the heels, so we really had to be sure of where we were going… So, there’s this girl, everyone calls her Na, she does amazing sandwiches. I love to go to her place… She has a small tv that’s always on, always on some weird live haitian concert chanel… on mute! always!… The cool thing (Well, i think it’s cool) about the little room where she sells her sandwiches, is that, on the shelves, she has like Coca-cola bottles, Orange juice bottles, … Shampoo, rinse… Soap… Then, there are four five chairs where you sit to eat your sandwich and lisen to the silent concert… Yesterday there were three old guys talking about their youth, about buildings that the quake had destroyed… One of them was like: «I have pictures… see? (Pulling out a picture from his wallet)… That’s in the Manoir Alexandra… Now it’s totally destroyed, see this girl? She was the love of my life…» And he would drink his Kola Couronne… Reminiscing… Cute.

But i didnt want to spend the night listening to cute stuff… So i went out… We went to the square, that they turned into a refugee thing… with all the red Coleman tents. I love the way people deal with the situation with resignation… We walked by a girl’s tent, and one of the guys asked her about someone… She pointed her finger at another tent and said «She’s at her house»… My point is that, they’re perfectly living with the fact that their tent is their house now…

At that same square, there’s the dude that usually sells candies in front of my school… He has all his candies and cookies in a blue box when he’s at the school… And when he’s at the square, all the candies are covered with alcohol bottles… Kleren with weird names like « Until sunrise »,… or « Breaking bed »,… Cheap rum and whiskey bottles, And that green thing that tastes like mint… Asowosi… And i think it’s beautiful because the shimmering candle light and the multicolored candies…they do like small orange and blue and pink and yellow…light waves… does all that even make sense?

I like hanging with these boys, they’re like the toughest in all the town… Everyone seems to respect them. Their « base » is at a corner…crossroads, under an orange standard lamp, where they just sit all night and talk shit. It’s next to a place where they sell ice cream and they always have old konpa songs playing out loud. I love the weird look on the people’s face when they see me there… singing or dancing. i love it. it’s like having our own street…

But me… my ungrateful little self, can’t seem to sit and enjoy… «It’s impossible!!! It’s Friday, it’s midnight and there’s NOTHING to do?! No no no… That’s unacceptable… Take me somewhere where i can do something!!!» … THey all stared at me and answered «Where do you think you can go with those heels?» So i sat and looked… and laughed, and got up, and danced, sat again, and started singing… and giving handshakes to people walking in the streets… Called random people… asked them for their hat or shirt, enjoyed that confused look they had, not knowing if i was serious or not…

… you see weird people in the streets on friday nights, like the guys on the pictures. officially vrazy. Payed me 5 gourdes in order for me to take his picture. My pleasure…

friday nights…

while others are dying of hunger…

it would be obvious for all of them to change or lose their snobby attitude after something like this quake… but no, some people will never change. you’d think that some of them would realize some things after having spent one or two nights sleeping in the streets, that they would stop thinking that they’re worth more then the other haitians. but no, some people never learn anything from any situation. now i shouldn’t be criticizing  the fact im gonna talk about, beeecause i know too much people that are in that stupid situation. but..oh well…

Fact: Parc du souvenir appears to be doing 2500$ funerals… that’s nonsense, since hundreds of thousands of haitians died in the quake. but, there’s nothing no one can say about it, if they want to raise their prices so high. 

Other fact: almost all the dead bodies are being piled up in pits… due to their number. that’s something understandable, there’s nothing to say about it, that’s just called cleaning the streets.

Third fact: SOME PEOPLE, (and there are a lot of them) are actually paying these funerals at that price while the rest of the country is dying of hunger & thirst. what sense does that make? now what i think, is that, they should make them freaking pay more…. pay 90% taxes, make them pay and extra 2000$ for the coffin, pay a 1000$ suit for the body, pay pay pay!! since that’s what they want to do…  hm? how did you feel after the funerals? know that this money could’ve bought food for lots of people… that are alive?! 

now, think what you want, tell me im disrespecting dead people… they… are DEAD! damn it! but that’s not my point, lemme relax a bit… that is not .. my point… at all… On peyi ap mouri grangou, tout bagay kraze ladann, nou supozeman pa gen sink kob pou rekonstwi’l … men ou menm, kòm ou twò ZUZU pou moun mouri’w yo antere menm kote ak lot moun mouri yo, ou pito al peye gwosseu kob saa, aulieu ou investil… ou pito jete’s miami ak piti ou epi bliye te gen on bagay ki rele ayiti? se sa… kite blan an fin konstui peyi a pou ou…apre sa rele musyeu papa… 

the first thing i said when people at my house were talking about he quake is « at least some people are gonna stop being so self centered and will start seeing that there are other haitians living around them. » … apparently… they didn’t.

what quakes can’t change.

 

South-East Coast. Haiti.

 

im sick of seeing sad images of my country… as if there was no chance for it to become like that again. that’s something no quake is gonna change… to me, haiti’s always gonna be the prettiest. always…

no quake is gonna change that you’re the only place where freedom means something to me.

no quake can change that you’re the only place i can call home…

im not crazy, i just beleive in you a lot…

i beleive that if we all get together there’s nothing we can’t fix…

because no quake can change the fact that i love you. ❤

it’s not a dream… face it: it’s real.

… it’s good cause then you realize, none of all these stupidities everyone here wants, really mattered. partying never mattered, fancy clothes, making a big deal about how your hair is done, huge & expensive armored cars, summers at the beach in Miami, having a beautiful body, nice hair… you realize all this was BULLSHIT; that all this was going nowhere, a big nasty pile of POINTLESS time-wasting crap! Now you have to open up your eyes and face reality with all it’s details and find a way to compress years of growing up into these 35 seconds, that changed everything. You can’t think the same way you used to, you’re not allowed to have the same priorities as you did before… Now you know what really counts in life… loving your brother more than anything, having the people you care about close to you… or simply being alive, being able to eat, sleep,… nothing else. Now you see what it is to live in insecurity… to have doubts on how tomorrow’s gonna be, to feel the ground shaking at anytime (the shaking even woke you up once.), to hear about dead people everyday,… banks that are closed, schools also… This is driving you crazy right?! You’re becoming paranoïd, you can’t go in the dark alone, you cry for no reasons… wait, but you do have reasons, all this crying results from these horrible images: destroyed favellas, people crying, trucks piling up thousands of corpses in huge pits… and this happening now. That’s why you’re afraid of the dark… cause you feel like all this is surrounding you as soon as you turn off the light. It’s been nine days… it’s getting worse. The more time passes, the more i have to deal with the fact that this reality won’t go away… yup. it’s not a dream.

from 16 year old eyes.

You might not wanna know what happened to me. You might only be interested to what happened to you aunt or your grandpa that are in haiti and that you can’t reach by phone. I can’t blame you for that, though you can’t blame me for wanting to write all this, since there’s no one else but my blog that can sit and listen to it. 

I was at school in PE class when all this happened going to get water with a friend. We felt the ground shaking, but we didn’t pay attention, because none of us had experienced that before, so we continued walking. but then it started shaking a lot more and we could hear the PE teacher screaming for us to lay on the ground. Then everyone got up and ran to go get their phones and try to call their parents… I tried to call my dad; the only thing i could hear was the « beep beep » it does when it’s busy. and disconnected.. i got extremely worried about him. worried. Then i heard someone scream that phones weren’t working… and a few seconds after that first shaking, i saw my school three stories building become a 2 meters high pile of debris. I was to chocked to start crying like the other girls in my class, i ran outside probably thinking my dad was already there… which was impossible because i live very far away from my school. i went back inside, and the only thing i could do was take pictures, still not able to believe what had just happened. It shook a second time, so i got scared and went to a friend’s house that lives next to my school. There, i started crying. I wanted to call my dad, but the beep beep wouldn’t stop… I could see the town from the top of the hill and lots of big houses were down… felt like a movie. a bad dream. People were running in the streets, praying, screaming to god that they knew he could destroy them, that he didn’t have to prove it… But the ground would continue shaking from time to time, and their prayers wouldn’t stop. 

The sky was getting darker. And that’s where my mom called; they were at the beach but they got up a hill because the sea was acting weird. My little brother told me « The sea disappeared…i saw fish, corals… then it came back. But disappeared again. But don’t worry… I took your camera and your computer. » … (i love you antoine.). They told me my dad was coming to get me that all i had to do was to wait and to stay away from walls. My dad got there about 10 minutes after and we went to see how downtown was. We saw a lady on a motorcycle that had a little girl leaning on her, with her face covered with a shred. The lady said the didnt know where to take the kid because the hospital was totally destroyed… 

When we got back to the beach, my neighbor’s hotel had huge crack all over it, the sea was still not at it’s place, my house didnt have much damage, there were broken bottles and glasses on the floor, but nothing very important…

Yesterday i received a tweet asking me details on what i saw…

I saw my school fall in front of me.

I saw people running covered in dust, hearing that their houses fell… sometimes with people in them.

I saw a refugee camp, as they are on tv… people praying, people alive but not really…

I saw a baby half dead, covered in bandaids…

I saw almost 150 people in three little tents… and thousands on the ground outside.

I saw a friend at the cemetery burying his little cousin.

I saw the oldest and prettiest houses of jacmel reduced to nothing.

I saw pickup truck filled with corpses…

I saw my teacher walking to the cemetery behind the car where his wife’s dead body was…

I saw kids from my school, people i KNOW, at the refugee camp…

And lots of stuff… i hear about dead people every second, tsunami alerts when i know i leave at the beach, stupid people trynna take profit, no gas, no water no food.

But what I didnt see though… Is the haitian police and the Mayor. shame.

how crazy do you get when alone on friday nights?

Friday. Dec 11th.

hmm, fridays… oh she knows plenty of people that aren’t home. that are out, having fun. or simply out. even her brother and her dad… well, they’re maybe not having fun, but they’re still not with her. she’s alone okay? she’s wearing a XL Jimi Hendrix tee-shirt. and John Lennon’s round glasses. and she’s singing… She was just seventeen and you know what i mean ♫ and no she’s not crazy. it’s just friday. friday does that. she’s not studying, because she’s totally against saturday school and will never stop saying it and doing stuff to prove that this shit is unnecessary. (let’s be serious,… No one remembers stuff they learned at school on saturday. everybody’s like checking their watch because they can’t wait for class to be done so that they can go HOME. my brain is Saturday.School.Knowledge-Proof. ) blah. bread and mustard is something delicious, especially on fridays. she finally realizes she spent all those years thinking it was « jimmy hendrix »… on fridays, she paints herself with laziness and lives life in slow motion. on fridays, she listens to the beatles. out loud. and she twists like those girls from the 80’s… and she sings… She looked at me and i ♫ … i could see ♫. and she thinks about you. asks herself three hundred thousand million questions about you… are you home? sick? tired? pissed? bored? hungry? are you out? drunk? still bored? high?… but since she can’t answer and that there’s no way for her to know, she gives up and put the music louder and starts to dance again. and sings… And we danced through the night ♫ and we held each other tight ♫ who cares? no one’s here to watch her…on fridays, she thinks about life. and realizes loneliness and boredom are the only two things that will never let you down. And my heart went boom ♫, when i crossed that room ♫ and i held her hand in mine ♫…on fridays, she writes. she types for the fun of it. she smiles. because it’s cool… cool to type stuff and to delete ’em after. no one will ever know. ever. she could write what she feels for you… all the stuff she can’t tell you. and then hit « delete » and everything would suddenly disappear, all these pretty… girly… corny… words, well, they would just fly to wherever. imagine for a second, that every thing we deleted went somewhere specific. along with stuff we forget, desires we lost, stuff that disappointed us, people that weren’t important enough for us to remember them… uh? but whatever,… she’s singing … How could i dance with another? ♫ when i saw her standing there ♫ and it’s incredible how she doesn’t care when there’s no one around. how she dances, yells, jumps… on fridays, she’s crazy. but isn’t she always? oh fridays… lipstick stays on the bread when she bites it… the same way lipstick would stay on your cheek if she kissed you. but whatever.