You would think, that at the grand old age of 22, that I would understand what it means and entails to be an adult I claim to be a grown up. I have a proper job, I do my own washing and I went to the hospital to get the news I needed surgery by myself. I lived without my parents for 3 years at uni, so it would be perfectly reasonable to assume that I am mature and have life sussed. I don't. Quite the contrary.
Selfishly, my parents abandoned me and jetted off to Antigua for the Easter holidays, and left me home alone for a week. I realized this was a mistake 24 hours in, when having been away for 3 days in Wales prior to their departure, I had nobody to pick me up from the train station after a 4 and a half- hour journey. Instead, I made friends with a taxi driver called Preeash who wanted to know my whole life story. He also knows where I live. I'm expecting to get a call from the bank telling me of identity theft any-day now.
I just about managed to cook for myself for the week, (mumma had generously stocked the fridge) and when the girls came down we ate at Nandos, and got pizza. Healthy, no, practical, yes. However, it got to Wednesday, and I had run out of fruit, and I couldn't get to Tesco's because I'm still on crutches.Resorted to getting my vitamin C in the form of a multivitamin.
The worst bit? Taking out the bins. Yes, I'm spoilt. My parents don't make me do chores. So I was genuinely flummoxed by the two recycling bins, food bin, and food waste bin. I had NO.BLOODY.IDEA. So, what would an adult do? I rung my 28 year old brother whilst he was at work, and inquired as to what I needed to do. Shameful.
I've also discovered that I don't get any cooler in terms of relationships. I just think I do, but really I'm still fourteen years old. The boy who has etched a smile on my face recently is someone who basically gives me a heart attack when I see him, and butterflies when he texts. However, in some ways I'm like a child in a toy shop, wanting something I can't have. Not the most adult approach to relationships.
So really, this week has taught me that I'm literally the world's worst adult. A girl who I think of as my little sister, has just left her small town, and moved to London by herself, to pursue something she loves. She's utterly fearless. I get aggy sleeping in my house alone in case there's a murderer lurking under my stairs. I rely far too much on the love, attention, taxi services and acceptance of others.
Maybe I need to grow up a bit. Or a lot.
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