“Alex, Alex! Come play with us!” Chris and Mike were shouting at me in the playground. It was recess, and our Cm1 class did its usual “police voleur”, and I was so excited to be with Mike, because he ran really fast and that our team would win most of the time.

I was born in Holland. I had been in the same bilingual class for 7 years, with the same boys and girls. We were friends, we knew each other, we always laughed and everything. Then, at 8, the illness came, but it didn’t disturb me, and my Cm1 year was as great as the past ones. It was also my last one.

12 months later, I finished my Cm2 at the Reunion, a French island in the Indian ocean. Then, I started college. I had friends, but no friends could be as nice as the first ones. I felt so far away, I couldn’t stay on a tiny island like this. I had tried to convince my parents not to move, in vain. I hated it, and my eyes hurt me, like my heart which was wounded. Finally, after 2 years which seemed centuries to me, we came back to Brittany, because all my grand parents live there.

That’s my wonderful past. Good beginning, horrible ending. I wish it would start by bad and finish by good. I don’t know if hope does actually exist, or if it’s only an emotion made to fool us, but I can’t help feeling it and believing in it. And maybe, one day, all this effort of believing will be rewarded. Or maybe my life is just a long path full of pain and lies. I dunno, I’m not a future seeing person. Lol, I’m destined to be blind, no way I'll see my future.