People have been checking me out this week. But not just men- women too, and at first I was all flattered and thinking "wow, time spent in America must have given me that inner glow" and then I looked in the mirror and saw that life is taking its toll on my face.
This trip back to Paris has been the most difficult and here I am almost a week from my first day back, still jet lagged. I can't fall asleep until 3 or 4am and so I've been barely sleeping; add to that some major personal problems and you get a face that draws stares. The bags under my eyes are so dark and so outrageous that I now recognize that those who I thought were checking me out were actually wondering how long it had been since I'd last used heroine. And maybe were about to offer me some because they thought I was going to pass out on them in the metro if I didn't get my fix.
Despite my zombie-like state, I started classes at Paris III yesterday and so far they seem really good. I did sort of sleep through half of my Fiction class, which is a damn shame because it's so interesting, but what can you do? The other students seem pretty nice too in that class and I had the unknown experience of someone recognizing me from last semester and sitting next to me and talking to me (I know!). There is, however, a guy in my Fiction class who made himself known as "that guy" within the first three minutes of class. He's older and bald and is basically into talking to hear himself talk and I am positive that the other students had the same reaction as I did the first time he spoke: "ok, here we go... he's going to be the guy, the guy I tell stories about and the one who makes me really not want to go to class except it's like a car-wreck and I won't want to miss one painful moment of it."
But let's be fair and say that they may have also been thinking "wow, the American went home and came back a major addict... gotta get to class to see if she'll shoot up in the co-ed bathroom during the pause."