When I was a child, I had absolutely no problem compiling a list for Santa (or Papa Noël, Father Christmas as we call him in French) : Barbie dolls, dolls, clothes and accessories for these dolls, and princess outfits and accessories for me. And the occasional battery-operated talking/walking/purring/ cat/dog. But as I got older and my interests diverged, so did my desires. At fourteen, I wanted stability in my life as some aspects of it, such as my parents' divorce and moving overseas, affected it. At fifteen... tough year: I wanted my privacy, my freedom. I wanted friends, I wanted respect, I wanted to be and feel surrounded, supported. At sixteen, I had what I wished for the previous year, and I thus wanted academic perfection, success. I got it the next year: Christmas 2009, when I was seventeen, was when I felt the most blessed: I had gotten my admission letter to my dream university, I was going to live in Paris, things were thriving with people I cared for the most. Last Christmas, I wanted time to pass faster: at eighteen, I had found how much life was exciting, and I couldn't wait for more.
This year... I mostly want to regain a happiness I feel has been somewhat slipping away. I want to be again the perfect, unbeatable girl whose future is to be the most brilliant; the girl who will reach the top and rule it. I want the certitude that I am simply at a rest stop on the path of success, and that I haven't irreversibly diverged from it. I need to know that I'm not a "lost soul", in the 21st century meaning: a girl who'll never have the perfect career and life.
But of course, as I type up this article while eating chocolates and watching "Kim and Kourtney take New York" on TV (they're just addictive, no matter if good or bad...), I try to think of the lighter things that may be found under a Christmas tree someday (Mum, if you're reading it, I want the cat the most! You can get me the shoes and the rest for my birthday... but I need purring! It's the only calorie-free substitute to chocolate... *reaches for another one*). Sometimes the frivolous, romantic, life-lover (not a hippie, just a life lover, I swear!) fashionista, shoe-addict chocoholic me seems to take over the serious girl who wants to be the next Anna Wintour.