It's, as Naki would have said, « absolute lunacy ».
Yeah, something's bugging me so far and I haven't got it until... Well, just twenty-four hours ago.
It's kinda weird, meeting someone one year before meeting someone similar, but very different. Still with me ?
I ain't sure of what She might think of me, and frankly, I don't need to know...
What I do kmow is that I'm currently drowning into the Darkest Hatred Ever. You might aswell call it « D. H. E. », without changing the meaning. That's absolute lunacy, too.
« Bud whadde heck are youse ta'kin' 'boot, man ? », you will ask. [Good question indeed.]
It's raining Hatred over me. There's simply too much of it. And it's not the « simply » of « What strike horror into your heart, is simply humor to me. », of course.
Mine is everything except « Simply ».
First of all, my first 14 years of existence were so pitiful they're not even worth to mention. Stop me if you dare, I will crush you. Basically, I lived in an almost total loneliness before going for the first time to Ireland. Two Years Ago.
Well, anyone ? I guess you haven't spent your first 14 years as... Ermh... Livings... Like full motorized No-Lives. [For the ones that are wondering, « No-Lives » is the plural of « No-Life ». More plainless.] You've probably grown up with some friends and perhaps, yeah, grilfriends (boyfriends for you female characters).
Grown up with a « positive » help. When you started drowning, they somehow helped you. Someone was always there when there was a problem. Basically, YOU. WERE. NOT. ALONE. ALONE. ALONE. Alone...
Whereas I (this « I » is supposed to be even bigger). WAS. ALWAYS. ALONE.
Cut from this alliance, I have gathered so much Hatred that I probably couldn't retain. If you read this, Justine, you will understand. [I don't think this girl called « Justine » will ever read this, but hey... If I ask your pardon, Darling, will you give it ? Please ? Or will you just pass it and forget everything about me ? It's up to you, but let me tell you that YOU. WERE. CUTE. TO. ALMOST. BROKEN.]
Let's just say I haven't Hated so much since two years ago.
Let's just say that my Hatred for Sport (y'know, running after a ball or anything during two hours... At least.) didn't (and does not) improve anything.
Well, that leads us to... Ooooooooooooooh ! What's that ? This is... Yeah, that's...
The first trip to Ireland.
Yeah yeah yeah. I didn't dream, or at least, I hoped so. For the very first time, nobody was trying to figure out what were my limits. They were all nice to me. Even if at the end of the trip, I didn't even know they're names. Most of them, 'course.
Just check my « Rapport Irlanskii ». See how I wrote ?
« Wow... Never saw locks like this. Black, full of despair... Just what the heck this guy is ? Geeze ! »
It was my first experience with gentle people. Even if it reduced my overwhelming Hatred by a minor... Well, let's say 0.0000000000000000000000000000000001 %... I remained suspicious.
Guess what. Then next year was the « Seconde » year. You know, just after the « 3ème », in our current education system. And rebelote : lots of nice guys. I didn't know ANY of them, they were ALL nice. Dude. It took half a year to me to enjoy this statut. But it was so good...
Remaining in my Dark Side were almost meaningless, so I decided to try the « hey men I want to have some social life » stuff. Basically it worked.
BASICALLY.
Then just take the summer holidays. Whoooooooooosh, nice'n'all. Nintendo DS, Advance Wars Dual Strike, Italy.
AND THEN.
HER.
THE PRINCESS OF BOWELS. [For the ones who are actually wondering what it does mean, let's just say, « La Princesse Des Boyaux ». Hmmmmmmmmmmm ? Geddit, genii ?]
She. Is. MAD. The kind of madness you want for your own. Because it's cute - she is cute -, because it's delightful - she is delightful -, because you can totally fall in love with it - basically, it happened to happen.
But CRY. She's MAD, and CUTE, and she's a real treasure, the treasure you want for your own because it's so great, BUT YOU CANNOT even TOUCH HER because SHE'S GONE.
Meaningless, really ? Just how does it matter anyway ? Nothing more than a STUPID caused by social statement PROBLEM. I shouldn't care, should I ? I've just got out from being a nearly total No-Life for fourteen years, so what ?
HAVE I ANY SOUVENIRS OF THIS GIRL ?
YEAH.
TWO PHOTOS OF HER.
And do not worry, it goes even worse as the time passes by. Because now, in order to repair the dramatical damage She did to my already problematic mental functions, I gather ANY SOUVENIRS of ANYTHING THAT MIGHT (by hook or by crook) remind me something socialo-interesting.
The Slovaks Girls - I didn't take them in photo. Because My brain was still suffering for the Princess.
The Polish Girls - Yeah, so the 376 Photos I took in two days are not enough, are they ? Outta the way, I got crushin' to do.
The Polish Girls, v2.0 - Okay. So basically I didn't take that many photos as before, but noone care anyway.
The Friends I Got At The College - Of course it's a whole mass of interesting facts I got there.
And now.
I believe we call it a trip in Ireland, v2.0. And it's quite interesting since the Princess Of Bowels somehow reincarnated into a psycho Lady. Two days after starting, without even knowing exactly what they all were supposed to be, I took 93 photos.
And yesterday.
My camera.
It just went bye-bye.
You see me ? Well, no longer.
Find me out in the whole city of Cork.
Get ready. You've got two weeks and three days before the end.
AND YOU WILL NOT HAVE ANY SOUVENIRS OF HER.
NO ONE. NO ONE OF HER, NONE OF ANYONE FROM THE GROUP.
AND YOU'RE OK WITH THAT ?
ISN'T IT JUST TOO EASY ?
AND DO NOT EVEN TRY TO BUY ANOTHER.
YOU'RE NOT EIGHT... YOU'RE NOT HACHI.
NOT EVEN COLIN.
NOT EVEN RICHARD.
Bon sang, il pleut des tuiles... Et j'ai pas fini de m'en prendre.
Je vous Hais. Tous.
Bah va voir toi même sur son blog ! 
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