Being 18

Being 18; it’s essentially just like being 17, just with a lot more despair. If you’re not 18 yet, you probably won’t understand why I hate my age so much, so let me enlighten you slightly.
Obviously, there is the major perk of drinking, except with drinking, does come the beer belly.
Similarly, there is smoking, but that has the side-effect of heightened chances for cancer.
And then, there’s the toxic plague of responsibility. Suddenly you go from have your parents sign forms for you, to suddenly needing to choose just where you want to go in life, and for many of you, I’m sure that will be fine, but for me, it wasn’t.
I was supposed to go away to university with my boyfriend to study a BSc in Film Production Technology; however, I realised university wasn’t for me, and now I’m stuck in Portsmouth, and 3 to 4 hours away from his kisses.
I usually hate publishing my life, particularly when there are struggles, but it’s only now that I realised that things don’t always work out. Life isn’t about growing up, getting grades, going to uni, working, getting married and then looking after children until you six foot deep.
And me realising this has completely thrown a spanner in the works.

I just also felt that it was something I should document, just so that if you are also going through this, you know you’re not alone. 


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