An unapologetic, unabridged recounting of my awkward teenage diaries

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I think we can all agree that ‘tweenagers’ (those delightful, awkward, in-between ages of 10-14) are the absolute worst. They hate everything and everyone (especially you mum), they’re confused, they have about as much of a handle on their emotions as a toddler on a bus who can’t decide whether they’re too hot, too cold or whether they want a banana or not, but they’re sure as hell going cry about it. All they can think about is the opposite sex, and I imagine, as a parent, you just have to pray to your chosen deity that they’re still too grossed out by ‘boy/girl parts’ to do anything more than hold hands.

You can’t blame tweenagers for being so abhorrent, ‘I’m not a girl, not yet a woman’ is the soundtrack to your life, you just want to be treated like a adult but you have no clue what the adults are talking about but you bet they’re laughing at you and Goddd nobody understands you and your feeelinnnngs, your tits hurt like all the time, all the hair on your body suddenly becomes disgusting and unbearable, there’s an unspoken race in your classroom between all the girls to see who’s periods will start first, and then when it comes you wonder what the fuck you’ve won here except an unpredictable cycle of pain and inconvenience and the crushing realisation your tits are probably not going to get much bigger. 

Thankfully, I managed to keep a, somewhat sporadic, record of these wonderful years of my life. I have to at least thank my young, naive and terrible self for that, because fuck me I have not laughed as hard as when I found them a decade later, and I thought they were just too good to keep to myself. So please enjoy this rollercoaster ride through my adolescence, where  I’m sure there are actually far more interesting things going on than what I’m complaining about,  and try to bear in mind that I am a semi-decent human being these days.