I should probably clarify some things about my life; I am a true master in the fine art of fucking things up.
I went to one of the most prestigious boarding schools in Scotland and still ended up re-sitting my final year.
I once burnt my chin on a curry pan because I was so focused on not burning my nose that I forgot that there were other areas of my face that could be considered flammable.
I break the nail, and get hit on by the homeless man outside the club at 3am (which has happened), and I’m still not sure what quinoa is and at this point I’m too scared to ask.
Good things don’t happen to me twice in a row- for example, this year I found out that I’ve been accepted to do an exchange for a term in Montreal Canada, a week later I got rejected for a job I travelled to Edinburgh -a day before an essay worth 50% of my grade was due in- to interview for.
My issues aren’t exactly the struggles of someone with genuine problems, but even I’m astounded by the mess that is my life at this point- I’m beginning to feel like Bridget Jones: the 20s Edition, although she got Hugh Grant for a big portion of the film, so she’s definitely winning. Bitch.
So if you decide to read this blog- proceed with caution; I can’t promise that I’ll succeed at literally anything I do, but I can promise that it’ll be funny.