Remember how torturous being grounded was? On one occasion I think I cried through both sides of my pillow because my awkward, bratty teenage self was that distraught over not being able to leave my bedroom… My crush was having a house party and my mum, the strong, couldn’t-give-two-shits woman that she is, had banned me from going. Naturally, I hated her for stealing me of such a premium-level flirting opportunity with him. Having no control over the situation and, in my eyes, being so cruelly kept away from my crush only made me put him on an even higher pedestal – it had probably surpassed Everest at that point. I spent the rest of the night dreaming about what could’ve been. The bashful eye contact across his dad’s living room, him giving me some of his Frosty Jacks, possibly even a bit of one-on-one conversation about our shared love of The Libertines. But no, I was trapped and my silly, adolescent heart couldn’t hack it. Fast forward twelve years and I find...
