30 Days To Twenty.

I now have a month's worth of being a teenager. Yes. It is the 15th of July, 2012. I have never felt so dejected. EVER. (I have actually, come to think of it. When they stopped selling Maltesers at the stores we frequent. My heart sunk, and I stood outside their door looking like a lost lunatic, repeatedly accusing the owners to have sold their souls to the devil.)

I can't help but wonder, (Yes, it's going to be a boring post about my stupidity.) WHAT have I achieved in my teenage years? (I've had a very depressing Sunday. Give me a break.) Have I ticked off everything in my "To-do-before-Twenty" list?

Psh. NO.

How do I look at turning 20? I mean, is this my chance to finally grow up? Or just stay that stupid, reckless 16yr old who never got tired of late nights and Snicker dinners? (Yes I know I posted this whole blog about the whole mature thing but BLARRRG, okay? Okay.) I hate growing up. I hate what my ego's become. And I HATE hating.

I come face-to-face with that dorky looking 16yr old from time to time and she tilts her head slightly to the right and asks me: What have you achieved, in the last four years?

I've fallen in love, and then fallen MADLY in love. I've made friends and lost so many more. I've gotten over my stage fright and added to my uncontrollable fear of spiders and relationships. I've broken my bones and vases and windows and phones. I've given away books and bought more and more and more. And I've forgotten how to dream about my future.

And when I look at that 16yr old and TELL her that, the IDIOT SMILES at me, and says: It's all good, maaaan. Chill out, no? (Small comforts count, eh?) 

I need to punch Bieber.

I need to do something stupid. I think I'll set the curtains on fire again.