Childhood

I don’t really remember when I was born, of course, but I know I wasn’t like that. My parents used to kiss me, hugs me abd let me do the same with the alive things without had to worry. I grew up like an ordinary farmer daughter in the middle of the french Alps. My parents weren’t proud of me because I never did something that they can be proud of but I was the only one of my friends (village companions) not adicted to booze ans some kind of cigaretts not really legal, at sixteen years old.

But one day, I don’t know how, I don’t know why, and…damn mom I killed the cow !! Kidding…I was afraid of cows so I let them be. It was the cat…I caressed the cat and oopsi no more pussy cat. At first, they thought i twas a problem with the cat, a cat illness…but then I kissed my brother good bye…everybody started thinking that maybe, maybe, the problem was me. Anything alive who touched me was going to be…no more alive ! A metabolic disfonction. Nothing could change it or so…

Sitting on a rocking chair, looking for the sun set, sad to be a murder (of course that i loved my brother !! Before this story, I kissed only people that I loved, now I kissed people that I don’t care) and a pariah when two men in black, I believe I was singing Mr Brightside, who asked my parents to speak with me. « Ta maman nous a laissé entrer » one of them told me with an horrible yankee accent. « Grand bien vous fasse ! I answered in return.

-         Excuse moi ?

-         J’en ai rien à foutre ! ». Well…after a while, they finally realised that their french was not so good but they kept asking me to join them for come back to Washington D.C, and find a antidote, a medication against my sickness.

Mom was pregnant, Dad couldn’t look at me, so…yes, I said yes.

Full of hope…the hope to die in an aerial crash.