And finally I'm back :] You will have to bear with my stupid emoticons and my rambling once again :<
But I can't come back and just say hi, so let me write one of my infamous long ass post (even though it won't be that long this time, kinda lazy :/ ).
First off, more seriously, college will start again from september 10th, so I won't be able to be online very often unfortunately (mostly on week-ends, not much during the week, and if so, since it will be college, I will have to have a correct sleep schedule, and with me being french, I probably won't be able to be on at the same time as you - EDIT never past 6:00 pm for you :/ ). With that said, during holidays and week-end I will be more present. I can still be somehow active during the week, by posting some stuff. Now, onto little little story.
I didn't know what to talk about. But I usually like, when I first meet someone, to talk about this one "trauma" I had. But while, the "veterant" kinda know me for a few months now, I never told that story to anyone on this site, which is a shame. So let me correct that right away. (And please pardon any possible mistake, english isn't my first language :< )
I was eight years old. I have lived in the same building, on the seventh floor, since my seventh birthday. Pretty easy to remember. I went to pick the mail, which is delivered to the second floor. I took the elevator, but instead of going down, it went up to the thirtieth floor. I remember thinking "It's weird, but whatever". When the doors opened, there was nobody. There was just this dog. I stared at him, when he began growling and barking. Then, suddenly, he rushed in my direction and hit me on the right leg. He was about to bite me, when his mistress came right on cue. I had a big hematoma on the right leg, and some of this dog's saliva on my pants. Since that day, I have been afraid of dogs.
But life being life, I slowly but surely recovered from my trauma. I was then around twelve. I was on the country, in Burgundy (Bourgogne). I was on the road, happily, unconsciously riding a bike, with some epic music playing in my earphones. At some point, I came across a house as there are many in the countryside. Its portal was tall, bigger than me. I stared at it for a few seconds, without stopping. Fifty yards later, I heard a weird noise. I watched behin me, to check if I didn't lost anything. And there he was, running like hell, his chops curled, the teeth sharp, menacing my apparently attractive legs. I have to admit, I was wearing shorts, but still. I started pedalling faster than I had ever did before. Never has the epic music in mu ears been that appropriate. I wasn't even feeling the exhaustion. But there it was : the slope that I can sometimes see again in my worst nightmares. I was sweating, I was tired, exhausted, but I was afraid and thus fast. A few minutes later, we had covered such distance thatthe house was out of sight. Luckily, the dog must have realized it, and went back, as if nothing happened. When I was just about to recover from my trauma, this happened.
To this day, I can't stand the sight of any hairy animal, not the sound of their growl. The worst thing about this story is that it is true. Yes. I am afraid of dogs.