Nowadays, people essentially define themselves through their experiences: we are so much more interested in a person's educational background, their family background, their love background... We are content only with "these" experiences to

define the person we have in front of us: in short, we try to give a kind of “shape” to the personality of this individual but do we really try to know it? Or are we content only with our “so-called” achievements? No person, I mean no person, will dare to affirm today that they fully know the personality of another: we prefer to dwell on stupid prejudices instead of striving to really knowthe person in front of us. Take the case of love experience: people will look at you differently depending on whether you have had several conquests or, on the contrary, whether you have had none.

Have you had several? You are immediately cataloged as a Dom Juan for men and as a man-eater for women, to put it mildly. You didn't have any? Even better ! You are immediately ostracized from society and labeled as some kind of alien!

I know that this subject shouldn't reach me but... It's still stuck in my head! I keep finding excuses: love makes you dependent, love makes you blind, love is a distraction, love and all its artifices contribute to the consumer society, love makes you suffer.. But despite that, I can't help but think about it and imagine myself in the arms of someone who would know how to understand me, listen to me and everything that goes with it.

It remains to be seen where this "famous" person is....

- Muza! The Earth is calling Muza: Hello !

Margo moves her hand in front of my face and I turn my head towards her: all my attention is now on her.

- What were you thinking again? she asks me.

- Nothing in particular.

- Liar. I'm sure you were thinking about the boy from earlier.

- Which boy ?! Cynthia wonders.

I roll my eyes at Margo forbidding her to tell Cynthia everything, but of course she's just doing what she wants.

- But why didn't you tell me? If you're looking for someone, I can introduce you to a few people if you want. advance my blonde friend.

- No ! Well, I'm not looking for anyone ! I don't want to bother with stupid stories Cynthia and you know that very well.

- Still, you still think about it! Margo teases me.

- Yes and it's perfectly normal! I answered him. But just thinking about it doesn't mean I want it .

- You are a bit too demanding on yourself and on love in general if you want my opinion Muza. Cynthia allows herself to intervene.

I decide to shrug my shoulders and say nothing to that. The metro enters the fourth platform since we entered the tube and that's where I get off.

A little later, as I enter the lobby of my building, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket: it's a message from Cynthia.

“You can pretend, but we're your Muza friends and we know you're concerned. Whether you don't want to or even refuse to pay attention to it, that's not the question, because, no matter your age, the place, the weather, the year... One day, you will fall in love and that day, believe me, you'll be happy you didn't experience it before because the first time is magic: you can't forget it. Everything in its time and I promise you it will happen to you when you least expect it. »

I read this text several times and three times, I tried to write a message to answer him but I finally changed my mind.

But why did she bother to send me this?...

We had already explained each other time and time again in the past but apparently the message was not at all clear. When the car stops in front of me with a loud noise, I get in, press the button for my floor and let out a deep sigh.

It is still true that I sometimes have the impression of feeling like a perfect little cactus among a bouquet of roses....

All my friends, all the people around me, are falling in love, passing a milestone in their sentimental life, living beautiful stories and me in all this?

How am I supposed to fit in with all of them?

The car stops a second time but this time I get out and arrive at the door of my apartment. Once back home, I come face to face with my father who intends to go out. We greet each other and he asks me where I come from, to which I reply that I went for a walk with my friends.

- Be careful Muzelina: distractions like this are good but in small doses: don't forget that you are preparing for your exams.

I nod.

- I know.

- Don't wait for me for dinner: I'll stay at the office. he said to me then before going out and closing the front door in front of him.

Our discussion will not have lasted more than two minutes....

I shrug my shoulders: it's always been like that with him anyway.

I go through the kitchen, where I'm sure to find my mother and tell her what my father has just told me.

- Again ?! she wonders.

I shrug my shoulders.

- He didn't warn you?

She shakes her head then looks with an annoyed air at the two huge saucepans she had placed on the plates and which are simmering quietly. She then quickly tries to hide this self-pity behind a big smile.

- It does not matter: it will do more for us in this case!

- Do you want help ? I offered him, already removing my jacket.

She turns to me and nods with a smile. I then roll up my sleeves, pass my hands under clear water and get down to the task she has just given me to know how to cut onions.

- And otherwise it went well with Cynthia and Margo? she asked me.

I turn my head to her and nod.

- We went for a walk and then we went into a store so Cynthia could buy some stuff and then I came back.

- Didn't you buy yourself something too?

I shook my head.

- Have you decided what you would like to do for your eighteenth birthday? she asks me then.

- No not yet.

It is true that the date is approaching....

- You could throw a little party here with your friends. she offers me. I'll manage to leave you home for a whole weekend.

- A whole weekend, seriously? I laughed.

My mother shrugs.

- We did it for Noah so why not for you? Besides, I'll have less to worry about with you than with your brother!

I laugh and continue to cut the vegetables she points to.

- I don't know... You know mum, eighteen years old isn't much in itself: I'd rather celebrate my birthday a hundred times better surrounded by my family, with all of you and two or three friends, rather than to celebrate it surrounded by complete strangers who will all end up on the floor completely drunk, less than two hours after their arrival!

My mother stops in her gesture and looks at me funny.

- What could I have done to have a daughter with as much wisdom and maturity as you?

I am the first of us to burst out laughing.

I'm happy to see that I managed to make her smile: I much prefer to see her in this state than to see her sad, especially when it concerns my father. She'll never tell me in person, but she's worried: she's really worried. Not for my father, but for their marriage.

She's not the only one to suspect something else...

I push those horrible thoughts out of my head and focus on what I'm doing right now.

- Hey ! It smells good here! What are you preparing?

My brother comes into the kitchen with his black leather jacket in one hand and his car keys in the other. He picks some food from one of the bowls that had been placed on the counter and my mother pats him on the back of her hand.

- Noah ! How many times am I supposed to tell you?! Stop doing that !

The latter shrugs his shoulders, with a laughing air.

- You too are about to go out, right? she asks him.

The person nods his head.

- A friend of mine is having a party for his birthday.

- And it is now that you warn me?

- Ah yes, I did not warn you before? he fakes with a small smile as he is about to leave the kitchen. Don't wait for me: I'll be back super late. Or super early: everything will depend on the time in fact. Good to more!

- Noah is waiting!

The latter retraces his steps.

- Yes mom ? he asks with a somewhat reassured air.

She looks at us in turn then declares:

- Take your sister with you. And there is no "no" possible: it is an order.

- What ?! he and I exclaimed at the same time.

- How is it not possible to say “no”?! You're not going to force me to take him with me, anyway! In addition, I already proposed to her and she herself refused !

I decide not to pay attention to the contemptuous air with which he released his sentences and add in my turn:

- He's right mum: I really don't want to go. I have to revise and...

- These are just excuses, Muza! Sometimes you have to give yourself moments of freedom: real moments of freedom, not just two short hours!

- You blame me for being too studious, right? To be completely invested in my future studies? I retorted, rather surprised by his curious idea.

- No honey, of course not. Don't believe for a single second that I'm against you: I'm not denigrating you, she told me as if she had read my thoughts, but it must be recognized that sometimes you behave like a kind of puppet who would do exactly everything we ask of him: we never have to worry about you.

- And that's a bad thing?

She shakes her head:

- No of course not. It's just, we feel like you're not really yourself. Studies are good and I'm happy to have a daughter as dedicated as you in this area, but that's not what will define you all your life: your personality and the way you live with others also count and that, this kind of apprenticeship, you will learn outside the books. In real life .

She walks closer to me and puts a hand on my cheek.

- Muza darling: you are only eighteen years old. You are living the best years of your life, so take advantage of them now before it's too late. I'm not telling you to follow the same example as your brother's either, she said, giving him a pointed look, but as soon as the opportunity arises, give yourself a moment's pause to become again what you are and live your life, that of a beautiful young girl of eighteen years and that's all I ask of you. All right ?

I smile at him and gently nod my head.

- Since I have no choice, can we go? urge me Noah.

I glare at her then look back at my mother. At this moment, I have only one desire: to ask him to confide in me. Because deep down, I know very well that sending me there is a way for her to “get rid” of me, to make sure that I won't worry about her. But this is not the case: it is even quite the opposite! I want her to tell me what's bothering her, but the problem: I don't know how to ask her. And then every time, I'm sure she'll cheer me up by giving me a good old excuse like "it's none of your business: these are adult problems" or "it's nothing honey, don't don't worry about me”.

The concern is that their problems affect us too....

But I don't know how to make him understand.

About ten minutes later, Noah and I have just left our apartment and we sit in the driver's seat for him and the passenger seat for me, of his beautiful red Audi.

- I don't know what stupid idea could have passed through her head to make her ask me to do that. he grumbled, buckling his seatbelt.

- It's okay: I'll try not to shame you too much, don't worry. I replied, in a tone half ironic, half tired of his untimely reflections.

Noah rolls his eyes, adjusts his seat properly, switches on the ignition and drives off into this cool, mild April night.

- You're heavy. he growls under his breath as he follows the route on his phone.

I sigh and lean back in my seat. I turn my head and stare at the nocturnal landscape. The city of New York, immersed in the night, begins to scroll before my eyes.

"Moment of freedom" you speak! It's nothing but a bad time to pass....

That night, my brother and I should have gone to Manhattan.

That night, I should have called my mother to tell her that I'm still alive and that she doesn't have to worry about me, that I'll be home with someone else..

That night there, I should have gone home, found my cozy bed, my room, my family and all my friends.

I should have continued to revise, finish high school, pass my end-of-year exams with flying colors, enroll in the universities I had chosen and thus, build the future I had been destined for.

I should have continued to endure my brother's dirty jokes.

I should have continued to live.

I should have...

I should have...

But I didn't do any of that for the simple and good reason that I left this world.