Sweet Sixteen

Upon completion of possibly the worst essay I have ever dribbled out into existence today I was feeling pretty shit. A fortnight of frantically trying to consume and regurgitate 1600 years of global history had taken it's toll on me and I was looking forward to gin's sweet release and the company of some fine, healthy friends. 

But unfortunately in the early hours of this morning whilst I was pulling hair out over Homer, my friend had drunkenly slipped down the stairs and cracked open a heinous head injury. After a melodramatic rush to the hospital, thanks to sweet baby jesus I found her sat in her a pajama suit, bored but fine. She has to stay in all weekend which really sucks, but I'm visiting tomorrow to bring her more useless tokens of my love. 

This sorry turn of events also means that I've been sat in my room since eight o clock on the Friday night after exams, watching Gypsy Weddings (absolute genius) and rediscovering my old Myspace page. It's cringing and self-indulgent, yet I can't help feelings of nostalgia and pride when I look back on what a pretentious dick I was at sixteen.Who knew being a pretentious teenager was such fun...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Most of these photos were taken by & belong to Sophie Anderson

 I rememeber talking to my friend Tabi ages ago about how weird it is looking at your old Myspace profile, all those hours of HTML coding and the careful selection of other's peoples shit that you used to express yourself with. It's like a modern timecapsule or scrapbook I guess, it perfectly encapulates who you were at the time. Have a massive urge to see all the friends I've made this year stuck in their 16-year-old timewarp profile window. As you can tell, I was going through a quite contrived grunge phase...

Sort of miss the days when I would have nothing better to do than sit listening to this on my record player, dying my hair all manner of hideous colours, scribbling in my angsty diary and thinking I was the coolest kid on earth. RIP sweet sixteen.