I hate being an Adult..

As a teenager, I abhorred the idea of adulthood. I would approach each birthday with a sense of dread, like I was being marched towards a guillotine. I remember being particularly miserable on both my 18^th & 24^th birthday. The first one because it meant officially I was now a adult, and the second, because I it meant I was skipped on the other side of the twenties.

Not that my teenage years were any easy.

I was your regular spotty teenager, unsure of herself, lacking confidence and always nursing a secret crush or a broken heart. I never approached any of my crushes, I was so sure that they would rebuff my advances. And conversely I gained a reputation for being notoriously shy and as a result no boy ever approached me as well. I wasn’t sure where my career was headed.