I'm Going To Tell You A Secret...

It's no secret I just heart PostSecret. And now I've found something even better, French PostSecret. Obviously I had to turn on the translations. What I found when I did though, was surprising.

Some of the secrets are heart wrenchingly sad whilst others made my grin ear to ear.

Here are some of my favourites....

I want to die because I no longer believe in love.

On the subway I told you "You are very pretty." I was serious. I think you're the most beautiful person in the world.

I don't know what to do with these feelings.

I loved you from the first day. I think I will you forever.

Next German PostSecret!

Ex-Oh! Ex-Oh!

Dont Cha

Don’t you just hate when someone is a heavy smoker and they invade your personal space. I don’t mind smoking. I’ve even smoked. You know those drunken club nights when suddenly for some unknown reason you need a ciggie. I blame Jaeger. Particularly for making me think that I look with one in hand. For this reason I don’t want to preach about it. Each to their own and all that nonsense but please if you are gonna talk to me about it, have a mint or at least rinse out your mouth with some water. And do not forget the hands. They are tres important. It will also stop me from trying to move away slowly. It looks like I’ve got a facial tick.

Don’t you just wish life could be a musical. Or at the very least people won’t frown on you for bursting into an impromptu song and dance when you’re shopping. Sometimes the vegetable aisle of a shopping market makes the perfect stage for a version of You Can’t Stop The Beat. I think this would also be a great idea when you want to tell someone how you really feel. No one can get mad when you sing them a song accompanied by jazz hands. When you have an overbearing parent a couple of verses of Papa Don’t Preach will do wonders. When you’re happy and want to tell the world you should be able to do so with Walking on Sunshine. And what boy would say no to This Girl’s In Love With You. It’ll be magic.

Don’t you just want to be French sometimes. They get to commit crimes of passion. They get to wear red lipstick and scarves in cool fashions. They get to have short Audrey Hepburn haircuts. And they never get fat. Okay I don’t think I’d ever have the energy or motive to commit a crime of passion but I’d like to know that if a boy treated me really badly and I accidently killed him, it’d be okay. I also cannot wear red lipstick, it’s my skin tone, so it would be nice to break some rules. And never getting fat. Like I need to justify that one.

Don’t you just want to have a career where your strengths are celebrated. Seriously I want a career where I can do what I love and get paid for it. And I don’t mean sitting on my couch watching Will & Grace and eating. For instance I love writing and would love to be a writer. At the same time I love pop culture references. Like really. I know my shizz. I kick ass at pub quizzes. You’d be lucky to have me on your team. Now if only I could get paid for knowing that much useless trivia. If this were a musical I’d look longingly into the distance and start singing All you have to do is dream, dream, dream, dream…

Ex-Oh! Ex-Oh!