{"id":13974,"date":"2012-06-26T05:30:18","date_gmt":"2012-06-26T03:30:18","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/libelul.com\/?p=13974"},"modified":"2012-06-26T00:21:48","modified_gmt":"2012-06-25T22:21:48","slug":"real-life","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/?p=13974","title":{"rendered":"Real life"},"content":{"rendered":"

Moi je ne sais pas par quoi commencer.<\/p>\n

Le probl\u00e8me de vous avoir tant cach\u00e9 de choses,
\nC’est que du coup cela s’est un peu entass\u00e9.<\/p>\n

Ce n’est pas l’envie qui m’a manqu\u00e9,
\nNi le besoin de tout me r\u00e9server,
\nNon juste une \u00e9norme dose de superstition,
\nLa peur que tout ceci ne soit qu’une \u00e9norme illusion.<\/p>\n

Et puis les jours, les mois ont pass\u00e9,
\nCe que j’ai pris pour une illusion \u00e9tait en fait une r\u00e9alit\u00e9,
\nMa vie avait chang\u00e9, j’avais r\u00e9ussi \u00e0 chasser tout ce que je d\u00e9testais,
\nR\u00e9ussi surtout \u00e0 m’\u00e9couter.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

My Red Shoes by James for Libelul
\n1\u00e8re s\u00e9rie de clich\u00e9s au reflex par James<\/em><\/p>\n

Alors promis, je vais tenter sur les prochains billets,
\nDe vous raconter ce qui m’est arriv\u00e9,
\nD’accepter de lever le voile sur ce que j’ai fait,
\nQuitte \u00e0 \u00eatre jug\u00e9e.<\/p>\n

Et vous, partagez-vous cette peur \u00e9trange du regard que l’on pose sur vous ?<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"\"\"<\/a>

Moi je ne sais pas par quoi commencer. Le probl\u00e8me de vous avoir tant cach\u00e9 de choses, C’est que du coup cela s’est un peu entass\u00e9. Ce n’est pas l’envie qui m’a manqu\u00e9, Ni le besoin de tout me r\u00e9server, Non juste une \u00e9norme dose de superstition, La peur que tout ceci ne soit qu’une […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[38],"tags":[512,396],"class_list":["post-13974","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-mes-humeurs-et-concours","tag-james","tag-pensees"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/posPp-3Do","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13974","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=13974"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13974\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13977,"href":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13974\/revisions\/13977"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=13974"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=13974"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=13974"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}