The only thing that keeps changing is my hairline.

I keep waiting to get older but it never happens. It’s like waiting for Gadot.

If I could tell my younger self one thing is that progress is not linear. I walk to the beat of my own crazy ‘kicked out of Sneeky Dee’s’ drum. I woke up on Sunday morning in a boy’s bed, headphones gone and my bag rammed full of candy. If this is the middle act it’s going to be one seriously strange ending.

A former manic pixie dream boy

Post Script:

A cute boy says he’s making me a cake. Fingers crossed that he can ACTUALLY bake. And people know you don’t fuck around with a man’s cake.

Update: The cake was awesome.