Double Maths and feeling ugly. This is all I remember of being fifteen. Everyone has a forgotten year and this was mine. The friendships that sustained me throughout my late teens didn’t exist yet; most of them I hadn’t even met. The silly crushes I’d formed on other boys at school lingered idiotically as my only interesting feature by the mere fact that they were secret. Aside from the amount of studying I needed to do, there was no difference between me at fifteen and eleven. Fifteen was a year spent in my bedroom on my own; revising, cramming, waiting.
