With the end of the year rapidly approaching, I’m feeling that ending melancholia I knew was coming but am never quite prepared for.

A few months ago I did this thing that I’m a little bit mortified by.

Getting married before the age of 25 comes with a divorce rate of over 60%. And I got married one week before my 25th birthday, right in the danger zone.

When I’m nervous, I get sassy. Once I was pulled over by the police for an RBT and was so nervous that when they asked me if I’d consumed any drugs or alcohol tonight I told the officer that I’d only done a “little bit of heroin”.

If you’ve ever seen me driving anywhere and I haven’t seen you (first of all you’re a creep, stop watching me when I’m not aware) but secondly, chances are you’ve witnessed me looking mad serious, singing to myself. 

Today was a bad day for me. People wonder why I don’t tell them things about my life; moving, having babies, getting married, and it’s because I’m superstitious and I think it jinxes things to talk about them