Blue Is the Warmest Color. Julie Maroh

Blue Is the Warmest Color - Julie Maroh


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feel lost, and I can’t talk about

       things as twisted as that with my

       friends—they’ll hate me.

      I have to forget this

      nonsense and stick

      with the people who

      love me.

      CLEM …

      Thomas

       is great.

      I know

      that he

      would

      do a

       lot for

      me. Why

      can’t I

       see that?

      CLEM … I GET

       THE FEELING YOU’RE

       AVOIDING ME, AND

       I’D JUST LIKE

       TO KNOW …

      I DIDN’T

       HAVE THE GUTS

      YESTERDAY, BUT …

       UH … I, I LI KE YOU

      A LOT, YOU KNOW,

      AND …

      I’m a girl,

      and girls

       date boys.

      20

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      CLEMENTINE?

      CLEMENTINE, SAY

      SOMETHING. ARE YOU

      OK?

      HEY, BABE, WE’VE BEEN

      TOGETHER FOR OVER SIX

      MONTHS … BUT IT’S NORMAL TO

      BE AFRAID … I WAS TOTALLY

      TERRIFIED THE FIRST TIME.

      YOU JUST NEED

       MORE TIME. PLEASE

       DON’T THINK THAT

       I’M IN A HURRY. YOU

       KNOW THAT YOU CAN

       TRUST ME.

      HEY …

       WHAT

       ARE YOU

       DOING?

      21

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      CLEMENTINE,

       WHAT’S GOTTEN INTO

       YOU?

      STOP!!! WHY ARE

      YOU LEAVING LIKE

      THAT?

      I HAVE NO IDEA

      WHAT I AM DOING

      HERE, THOMAS.

      I AM SO IN LOVE

      WITH YOU, YOU KNOW. I

      AM BEGGING YOU, PLEASE

      STAY. THERE ARE NO MORE

      TRAINS AT THIS HOUR.

      I’LL TAKE

       THE SUBWAY.

      22

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      CLEMENTINE?!

      MY MOTHER

      AND HER

      CHRONIC

      INSOMNIA …

      BUT… YOUR PAJAMA

      PARTY AT YOUR

      FRIEND’S HOUSE …

      AT 3:00 IN

       THE MORNING?!

       DO YOU REALIZE

       WHAT COULD HAVE

       HAPPENED TO YOU ?

       REALLY, YOU ARE SO

       IRRESPONSIBLE!

      AND WITH

      EVERYTHING

      THAT’S

      HAPPENING!

      GOOD NIGHT,

      MOM.

      WE GOT INTO A FIGHT.

      I WANTED TO COME HOME.

      23

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      May 1st, 1995

      Dear Diary,

      24

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      I’ve already told you about

      my disastrous evening

      with Thomas, but I still

      need to talk about it.

      I can’t stop

      thinking about

      what happened

      (and could have

      happened), and I

      like myself less

      and less.

      I didn’t even really want to

      go to his place and even less

      to sleep with him.

      But I’m going out with

      him—that’s what’s supposed

      to happen, isn’t it?

      I feel lost, alone, at the bottom

      of a pit. I don’t know what to do.

      I get the feeling that everything

      I do is unnatural.

      Against

      my nature.

      Why does

      life work for

      other people

      and not for

      me?

      LIFE DOES

      NOT WORK FOR

      EVERYONE ELSE,

      EITHER, MY DEAR

      HEART.

      25

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      DINNER WILL BE

      READY IN A FEW MINUTES.

      YOU LIKE SPAGHETTI

      BOLOGNESE, DON’T YOU?

      YES,

       THANK YOU VERY

       MUCH. I’LL BE

       RIGHT THERE.

      THANKS …

      THANKS

      26

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      YOU KNOW, I CAN LEAVE

      RIGHT AFTER WE EAT IF IT

      BOTHERS YOU IF I


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