This is it.

Well, this is it. After a long, undeniable wait, granted, I was happy to wait, however, there's no doubt I am in fact 20. The big 2-0 I've been dreading since summer ended. Pinch, punch first of the month, and October spelled the true colours of winter approaching, as well as the end of my teenage years. Despite this, I'm currently sitting in my dad's car thinking and wondering what all the fuss was about. I hated the idea of turning twenty, abhorred it even, but now it's here, it's okay, it's bearable. It's like going to the dentist I suppose. No one really wants to go, but after you've been, you realise it wasn't as bad as you thought, and you needn't have worried so much. And then, I thought, why was I so set against turning twenteen* as I've called it. Were my teenage years really all that? No, no, actually, they weren't. For every high I had, I probably had twice as many lows. Teenage years are confusing and stressful and bloody hard work, but no one ever tells you that.

The best and worst years of your life. Well, okay, that's true. I grant that. I've had some wonderful, hilarious and downright brilliant times as a teenager, but does that mean I have to hate the idea that I'm no longer in that chapter of my life? Perhaps not. New beginnings and all that jazz. So, I'll embrace it. Why not. I've got a smile on my face and that's all that matters.