Someone wise once said ‘Growing up is hard to do.’ Got that right. Oh, what the hell am I talking about, I wouldn’t even know yet. I’m about a week shy of my 25th birthday and I feel like I thought I would’ve felt turning 18.
My days are filled with imagined dramas, shopping online, writing quizzes for teen mags and, as you’re all too well aware, eating far too much ice cream. And generally I’m okay with this. I mean, these are the things that interest me, for better or worse. Nothing very deep or world-changing, but fun for me nonetheless.
So I find it quite ironic that on the same day that I get a phone call from some realtor asking if she can talk to “my mommy” (I knew I looked kinda young for my age, but obviously I must sound it too since this isn

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