Aidez moi...aidez moi...

J'ai...quelque chose--je ne sais pas le mot--j'ai (quelque chose) quelqu'un...un garcon...et je ne sais pas quel faire. Comme j'ai dit a ma soeur, il n'est pas un garcon qui, si je l'avais vu au lycee avant Vendredi, je n'aurais pas le regarde deux fois! Mais, parce qu'il etait si gentil, si chouette, a moi, surtout a moi...comme une autre fille que je connais, peut-etre...je ne sais pas, peut-etre, je commence a l'aimer? C'est vrai?

Je me dit, beaucoup, que je ne l'ai imagine que. Non, c'est vrai. Ce n'est pas mon imagination. D'accord, je dit qu'il est un garcon qui est gentil pour tous les filles. Mais non. Parce qu'il ne faisait pas attention, beaucoup, aux autres filles....

Ok you know what? My french gets worse and worse as I try to go along, getting this out what's been building up inside of me...the words and thoughts are coming faster than I can translate...it's not really working.

Why is it in French? I don't know. I guess this could be another strange thing I've been doing lately. Whenever I become passionate about something, whether I'm angry or just have to get my feelings out, I scream French. That's the very first thing that comes to my head, and the very first thing that comes out. The first line that I wrote has been repeating itself over and over inside my head all day. What's going on? What is happening? And what was with Friday night and...him??? Somebody that was there, please help. You were able to see from the outside in. Please...