I'm nearly 24 years old.
Reality hit me real hard today. I have no idea what I'm going to do, where I'm going to be this time next year.
Slowly but surely a lot of my friends moved away from Liverpool, leaving behind fond memories of the past. What is left is the sweet feeling of melancholy that comes over you when you get nostalgic. I never understood how some people just wanted to be a grown up as soon as possible, getting a shitty job that pays them enough money to get fucked at the weekend. Their only prospect in life would be to get enough money to forget about their job that would make them miserable half of the time, so they could go away and forget about it.
Oh well.
The thought of a life like that makes me as sick as MLA referencing. (?!?!?!?!??!!)
wawawawawawawa.
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