I see an image,
an Image of me.
I look to the past and I see
The perfect schoolgirl with her eyes on the blackboard,
hair done up in two pigtails that go down to her waist.
She wears a blue jumper and a turtleneck decorated with cartoon characters.
Her only close friend is a boy just as intellectual as she is.
They would never talk about romance, just the books they read yesterday.
I was the epitome of the perfect schoolgirl,
bright, book-hungry, happy to learn, and didn't think of boys as guys.
Indeed I knew I was the perfect schoolgirl, that was my personal image.
I was happy, then.
But now, I can't break free.
I can't tell my mind that romance allowed.
Cause' you see, perfect schoolgirls don't have crushes, boyfriends,
anything like that.
Only now it is not really my image anymore, but it's etched on my eyelids