I like being polite, so I'll introduce myself : I'm a teenage girl of 17 who loves writing, but I won't post anything, I'm just here to read what you guys made, and to try to give you constructive comments, it always helps improving. Here's a long story of why I've come here, so you shoudn't read if you're not patient or if you can't stand seeing spelling insults. I warned you ! Remember when you actually thought in French, in your mother tongue, your native language, the one you grew up with, the one you listened to when your mother was singing you songs? Because I do not. I don’t remember. And how am I supposed to look for some French words from a distant past when all that come to my mind is a bunch of English words caught in English structures? I have no idea. There are so many people in this world who feel like they weren’t born in the right place that I wouldn’t be that original if I said I was convinced I wasn’t born in the right place too. It’s a little bit of shame here, because my country is pretty cool. Come on, we’re talking about France. Living down here is quite okay, isn’t it? Big houses, big gardens, some poor people lying on the sidewalks, I concede, but any important survival problems. My concern is the language. It’s always been the language. Would it sound awkward to anyone if I told you that I had always felt like French weren’t the language I was fated to speak? Of course, I love it. I love its wonderful irregular verbs coming out as if the conjugations themselves weren’t hard enough to learn, its grave tone, its uncountable mute letters … but all of that doesn’t feel like home to me. I can’t help thinking in English. Oh, I make a lot of mistakes because I didn’t have the luck of being raised among English people, and I totally assume it now even though I’m trying hard to improve. English is a passion for me. Do you imagine wandering into the darkness for a decade searching for someone who could actually understand you, guide you, and express how you feel? Because it’s pretty much what English is to me. My special someone. One day when I was ten or eleven, I switched on the television and discovered some show my mother was watching: I couldn’t understand a word these people were saying, but I found myself lapping up everything they said. Their accent sounded normal. The way they were ordering their words sounded normal as well. It was what I had secretly dreamed of my entire little life. Feeling something. Being moved by the beauty of a language no matter what the content is. I realized then that there must have been some mistake. Maybe I had been kidnapped as a baby, or maybe my parents were spies sworn to silence by some secret agency, forced to speak to me in French, but Moliere’s language wasn’t mine. That thing on the TV was my language, the only one I could understand with my heart and not my brain. So now I look like a crazy disturbed child affected with an outrageous personality problem, and I wish somebody could at least try to comprehend, but let’s go over it. I wish I was born in America, sometimes. I swear I could have been a really, really good citizen, a writer or something – it’s not too late for that, but it will take me years to write perfectly enough in English to intend to create my own book. I would also have loved being a British girl. To be honest, they have got my favorite accent: the way they pronounce some letters is so funny! Let’s be realistic, I’m a French girl who rejects her mother tongue because it’s too icy, too platonic, so is there anything I could love more than the British accent ? Anyway. Australia would have been fine too. Basically, as long as I could have been born in a country where I would have learned English, I would have been the happiest woman in the world. But I’m from France. And I’m not the happiest woman in the world. I’m not even a woman; I’m just a child pretending to be growing in her parent’s eyes. And the pursuit of happiness has become a terrible thing to do, these days. So I’m here right now telling you something went wrong with my birth. If those sounds I hear from a distant country are mockery, I completely understand it. Do I believe I am the only person in the world who thinks her life sucks? No. But I love being spectacular, so let’s just make it as if I was this new fallen-from-nowhere girl with her big stubborn dream of learning English in order to become the person she’s sure she’ll become if she fills this last missing piece of the puzzle. So, enough about this annoying story about me. I love reading all kind of things, poesy, short stories or novel, and I admit I have a big crush on historical works. I'll be glad to read you anyway. That's it, and huh ... greetings !