Two weeks ago I turned 17. I don't like being this age. It's scary and confusing, full of adult things.

When I started this account and this book even I didn't really need to think about too much. I had unrealistic dreams for the future about being a writer or a journalist. I didn't even think about university or what I wanted to do with my life. My world was full of school, friends, music, books, and thinking that I knew what stress felt like. Ha, what a naive imbecile I was.

It's sad that my dreams and expectations for life have been dampened as I've gotten older. I don't know what I want to be when I'm older but I feel I'm most likely going to be a teacher now, not a profession which I'll hate but certainly not one that I love. I've kind of just accepted that it's the most likely career option after taking a degree in English Literature.

I hate being so close to being an adult, it feels like I'm on the edge of a terrifying cliff, peeping over at what the adult world is like. Inside I still feel like a child. I sleep with a teddy bear and I don't know about adult things like taxes and politics.