Blegh. The Past.

Home.

Every time I come home from Lincoln, my world becomes one giant cliche: "You don't know what you've got till it's gone."I have BATHS. I watch TELEVISION. I actually want to hug my sister and she tells me she LOVES me. My mum gets teary-eyed. My dad smiles lovingly at me; enamoured by the fact his first-born is living the "student life" and "following her dreams." He shakes his head with laughter, when I admit to smoking and throwing up in stranger's toilets. Oh but it all doesn't matter, does it Daddy-dearest? I'm a student!

Fantastic.

I won't lie - this is all very amusing. More amusing when I flitted through some old photo albums yesterday and unearthed this debauched product. My first instinct was to type a big fat LOL (but I'm not going to pollute this blog with my shredded language skills. Thankyou Facebook), but I was genuinely amused and slightly embarrassed at how mildly pathetic I looked. One, I'm about seven, two I'm dressed in some bizarre, disgusting Salmon-coloured, fleecy jumpsuit (I'm never going to forgive my parents. ever.) and lastly, I'm holding what is unmistakably a shitty, filthy tissue in my hand.

This look at my former self makes one twiddle their metaphorical beard of wisdom. When I delve back to my childhood/teenage years, I was rather ... odd. God. I remember sobbing in the toilets over a broken clay cat in year 6. I convinced myself I was a witch. I made up an alien language. I made a girl cry in year 9 by saying "Die Bitch." I sent horrible text messages when I was year 7 because I was being picked on.

Sheesh.

My only interpretation is low self-confidence. I liked to be in control.

And yet ... it's defined the person who I am now at 19. Yes, I will always feel a bit insecure but don't we all? And I don't look at this picture with shame, merely with wry humour - as that's me, but what I'd LOVE, is to give that young ickle Jessica a big hug and say:

It's gonna be alright kiddo. Hang in there.