02.01.15 & 02.06.15


When I woke up on Sunday morning, my first thought was « WHAT. THE. HELL. » I checked my phone and saw that he had sent me another text asking if I was doing better. I told him we needed to talk. He replied « Sure, tomorrow morning, face to face ».

I spent the day hungover, and only thinking about what had happened.

We had lunch together on Monday. I had never been that nervous before. When I got to his appartement, he tried to kiss me, but I kissed him on the cheek. « Oh.. » he said. Awkward. He had set the table and made us pastas. We started by talking about school and out of nowhere he said « So.. Saturday night.. ». I read to him a list of what I had to tell him I had made the previous day:

-why did you kiss me when I was so drunk you knew I couldn’t react?

-why didn’t you come upstairs when I asked you to?

-I’m sorry I threw up on you.

He then told me that he liked me and that I was « pretty, funny and smart » and that we should date without telling anyone but our best friends at first, to see how our relationship was evolving. I agreed. I was happy. Before arriving to school, we kissed.

As I arrived to class, everyone, absolutely everyone, was looking at me. And for the next 3 days, the only subject on everyone lips was him and I kissing. It felt like a bad teenager comedy. But it actually made me laugh, and I enjoyed lying to everyone about us not dating, way too much.

After school, we would wait until everyone left to go to a coffee shop, or to my appartement and we would have the best time. It lasted until the next friday. 4 days. We were in Spanish class when I realized I didn’t want to date him. It hit me hard. All of what had happened felt too weird to even think about it. I told myself that I would wait another week to see if my feelings would change.

But that Friday night, as I was having dinner with my friends they told me that he had told one of his friend « yeah, I think we might date soon », which I thought was funny, until they added « I mean, she’s not only pretty, but also sexy as fuck, and she lives 2 minutes away from school so it’s convenient for you know, between classes ». I almost cried.

On the next day, one week day to day after we first kissed, I told him I had to tell him something:

-I was told what you said

-Who do you trust the most? Him or me?

-But I have something else I have to tell you.. I think we made a mistake, trying to date ..

-What? But is it about what he said? Because it’s not true!

-No.. It’s not only about that!

-So what is it then?

-Well, I think I don’t feel the same as you do.. And I’m sorry to tell you this now, but I feel like it wouldn’t have been fair not telling you..

-But things were going great, how can you say that? How do you know your feelings are not going to change?

-I don’t know, I’m so sorry, but I’m just not feeling it..

-Are you being serious here??

-Hey, I’m so sorry, I really am, but I hope it’s not going to create any drama..

-It obviously is going to.

-I’m so sorry..

As much as I felt bad, I was beyond relieved too. It was over. Everything was over. Yes, he would be mad at me for a few days, but everything would go back to normal soon.

But I received a text from him a few hours later. « I just want to make sure you really thought  your decision through and that it’s not only about what you were told. » DIDN’T HE GET IT? I DIDN’T FREACKIN’ LIKE HIM AS SOMETHING ELSE THAN A FRIEND.

But he insisted. He would not stop texting me, asking for explanations. I eventually stopped answering.




Saturday night. I drank. Too much. I was falling asleep on the sofa, when someone took me by the hand.

The next thing I remember is being in a closet, in the dark, kissing him. He told me he liked me from the day he met me. He asked me if I wanted to go out with him and I answered « I don’t know ». He told me I was pretty. We kissed. Again. And again. « My hair is in your mouth. » I told him « Your hair is gorgeous. » What was happening? I didn’t realize anything. Our best friend whom birthday we were celebrating was screaming, I told him « IT’S HIS BIRTHDAY WE SHOULD CELEBRATE » but after kissing me again he told me that this was the best present we could ever make to our friend. I asked him if we could go to the movies « whatever you want »,  he whispered.

We kissed again. He kept asking me if I wanted to go out with him, and I kept answering « I don’t know ». We kissed. He told me that he had been wanting to kiss me for a long time. I hugged him. We kissed. I threw up. Twice.

Next thing I know, I was in a bathroom being cleaned up by two of my friends. « YOU LEFT THE BOAT!! » one of them screamed. I had left the « never been kissed before » boat. They were so happy for me and told me that everyone had been waiting for this moment to arrive. I felt so sick. They told me that him and I had spent an hour in that closet. My pants were covered in vomit.

Lila took me upstairs, joggers were given to me, they laid me in a bed and made me drink some water. I was left alone in that room but I couldn’t sleep. I called my best friend for half an hour. What had just happened?? Some girl from my school came in the bed with me. « I don’t want it to be Monday » I whispered. She replied « don’t worry, if you don’t want to date him, you’re not forced to. » It made me feel better. She left for the bathroom because she had to puke. I texted him asking if he could come to the room. He didn’t answer. I fell asleep.

It was 4 AM when I woke up, I went downstairs, ready to party again. But here he was.. He hugged me and asked if I was doing okay, I quickly said yes.. Our best friend who was hosting the party came to me laughing and danced with me. I can’t remember if I was happy or not.

Lila and I then decided to leave the party, and while waiting for our taxi to arrive, the random girl from my school came to me and told me that she had spoken to him, and that he really didn’t care about me, that he just kissed me because he was drunk. I was so happy Camille told me that, things weren’t going to be weird after all!

As we were about to go to bed, I got a text from him. « Are you feeling better? ♡ » He usually never uses hearts in his texts.



I’ve known him for four months now. We’re in the same class and we became friends. Everything was great: his best friend was one of my best friends, we hung out everyday.

One day when we were at the library with my friend, he joined us. It was the first time my friend and him met. When he left, she told me that he had a crush on me. I laughed. He’s too good of a friend.

A few weeks later, he started to leave a few hints: he’d say that I was the best or that I liked it when he was being romantic. I played with him. I teased him, knowing that nothing would happen as I didn’t think anyone could ever like me.

I’ve never had a boyfriend or let alone kissed anyone. I’ve had a lot of crushes, but dating was scaring me. I’m 17.

Yesterday we spent the day at my apartment to work together. After we studied for less than fifteen minutes, he asked me if we could watch a movie. I said yes. I sat on the sofa with a blanket, he was next to me. Every five minutes or so, he got closer to me. I didn’t understand what was happening. After the movie ended, he put the blanket over our heads, put on a calm song and we talked under the blanket for 20 minutes. The conversation was getting deeper. He asked me about my family, when we usually only talk about school. I checked the time. He was supposed to leave 30 minutes ago. I told him. He said that he’d rather spend time with than do what he had to do. I said I had to leave. On my way to meet my family, I couldn’t stop smiling.

I texted my best friend. « Something weird happened. » I can’t date him. I don’t mind kissing him, because the whole « first kiss » deal would be behind me. But everybody at school would know. They can’t know. But I’m not brave enough to tell him no, before, or after the kiss. I don’t want to be with him. But hopefully I just imagined this.

During my economy class today, he was behind me talking to our best friend in common. I could hear everything they were saying. « But which movies did you watch? », « Why didn’t you kiss her? » « Don’t worry, it’ll happen by itself » « You’ll see, after two weeks of dating, the sex will come naturally. »

I froze. My palms were getting wet. My heart was pounding in my chest. I was thinking so fast. I wasn’t thinking at all. I was shaking. I felt disgusted. I was an object. I felt betrayed by my friend. Did he know about this? WHY WERE THEY TALKING ABOUT THIS WHEN THEY KNEW I WASN’T FAR AWAY.

Being a Student in France: Nursery School (Part 1)

This is the first episode of a 5 parts series in which I’m going to talk about French education and my experience with it, starting with “la maternelle”, which is the equivalent of Nursery School.


La maternelle is the school for the younger children, from 2-3 to 5 years old, all the maternelles are public and the attendance levels are high as almost 100% of the children aged four are attending la maternelle even if it’s not a compulsory school. They develop their basic faculties, improve their speaking skills and are introduced to the world of reading and writing, numbers and other key areas of learning.

La maternelle hours are from 08.30 to 16.30 on week days, excepting one Wednesdays when there’s no school. Kids eat at the canteen which usually costs around 40€ a month.

There’s one teacher for each class of about 20 children.


La maternelle is divided into 3 to 4 sections, depending on schools:

-the very small section, with children from 2 to 3 is the first one. Only children who are toilet trained by September can attend. The kids learn how to be students, start to make real friends and get used to drawing, singing and else. I personally started La Maternelle at 2 and a half years old and I still can remember a few bits from this year.

-the small section is composed of children from 3 to 4 years old who spend 26 hours a week in class (not including lunch time which is served at school nor “la garderie” which takes place after 4PM and where children whose parents are working stay at school and play) and learn how to use the, sadly very hard french language, a little bit better.

-the middle section which children attend when they’re 4 to 5 is the one I remember the best: my teacher was great, my group of friends was really coming together and we had a lot of fun at, and outside school. In this year the kids get a better notion of the time and the seasons, and get better at everything they have been learning before.

-the big section is the last one of La Maternelle and the kids are 5 to 6. This year is very important as it’s kind of a rehearsal of the next year and it’s when the children start to learn how to read and how to count.


I’m now going to tell you a little bit more about my maternelle experience. My family had just moved to Paris when I intended my first class and I can’t remember anything from the first days. But I know that la maternelle is where I met friends who I’m still in touch with, it’s where I learned how to live with others and how to be independent. I guess that some of you who are reading this (if anyone is reading this..) must think that we’re crazy to send our children to school all day at such a young age, but in my mind it’s at this young age that you can become who you deeply are and learn how to live in society.

Finally, here are some random memories about nursery school that I still have:

– I remember spending all of my breaks running around with my best friend

– I remember doing singing shows in front of all of the parents every Christmas and June

– I remember going to the zoo with my classmates and being so afraid of the wolves

– I remember not wanting to eat green peas at the canteen and putting them under the children-sized tables

– I remember having to pee in the door-less toilets while everyone was doing the same

– I remember how innocent and happy I was.


I hope you found this interesting and I’d love it if you could tell me what to improve for the next article of this series.

My trip to California

Hello! In the middle of August I left France to fly all the way to California for a 20 days trip with my father. brceq-poster_carte_du_monde_vintage_cavallini_Souvenirs_de_lyon_pentes_de_la_croix_rousse   We landed in Los Angeles at night and drove to the house our friends lent us, which was more than great! DSC_0069   We stayed four days in LA, here are a few pictures. DSC_0072   DSC_0092






We then drove to Sequoias National Park and it was absolutely stunning, the trees were huge and we spent the day hiking.




After that we continued driving to the north and got to Big Sur.




This was our last stop before San Francisco which was great even though I didn’t really got to enjoy it as I was sick and the weather was really bad during our stay.



After spending two days in SF we took a plane to Las Vegas! Unfortunately none of the pics I took turned out good as I left the flash on my camera. Silly me.. But I enjoyed Vegas wayyyy more than what I would have expected: my father had booked us a suite at the Bellagio and we spent the night outside, ate a lot and had fun watching the over 21s getting drunk!

After our night in Vegas we drove to Zion, Arches and Bryce Canyon’s national parks. And..wow! My dad had been warning me for weeks about the heat and luckily he was wrong, it was the perfect weather for us to walk around and enjoy the breath-taking landscapes.








After spending another night in Vegas but at the Wynn Encore this time, we hit the road again to go to Palm Springs which we didn’t really visit because our hotel was too great no to enjoy all day.

As the end of our trip was coming we went back to the sea, in San Diego and then to Los Angeles where I was more than happy to shop, eat at Lemonade everyday and swim in the biggest waves I had ever seen in my life!





I hope you enjoyed this pictures and don’t hesitate to ask me anything!

Héloise xx

I hoAfetWe

Free-Writing (NaBloPoMo #13)

When I’m writing I think in French at the same time. I wonder if one day, when I live in the US,  I’ll be thinking in English..

The timer is on, I still have nine minutes.

One of the worst feeling in the world is when you’re being told something somebody said about you behind your back.

The timer is on, I still have eight minutes.

It happened to me today. I didn’t do anything wrong. But people believe what they want to believe. When they’re going through a hard time, they could do anything to put the blame on someone else.

The timer is on, I still have six minutes.

I was watching a video from a youtuber who shaved her hair for charity. I don’t think you have to do something that important  for people to give to others. Well, nowadays you do, but you shouldn’t. We live in a world where Kim K’ ass is more important than wars.

The timer is on, I still have four minutes.

I just got a twitter notification. Who cares? I really want to sleep. This post is so bad.. Am I going to put it online?

The timer is on, I still have three minutes.

I miss my brother. He’s two, you know. In a few years I’m going to have to leave him. He’s the only thing that is really holding me back to France.

The timer is on, I only have one minute left.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents so so so so much, I don’t even have words. But I’ve been told my whole life that one day I’ll have to leave them. My brother is new to my life, why can’t I have more time with him?

The timer is on, I don’t have time anymore.

Oil, Meet Water (NaBloPoMo #11)

Today’s prompt was: “Of the people who are close to you, who is the person most unlike you?”

On the people who are close to me, the person must unlike me is myself.

I live with two persons in my body and I keep going back and forth between them.

One is always smiling, the other one keeps staring into to space.

One is happy with her friends, one wants to sleep forever.

One wants to do anything she could possibly imagine, the other one keeps holding her back.

One is someone people like for here kindness, one is someone people hate for her nastiness.

One is great, one is miserable.

One is happy,  one is depressed.

One is free, one is prisoner of anxiety.