You sleep in a tent. Footsteps are heard at midnight. It turns out it’s your little sister.

You sleep in a tent. Footsteps are heard at midnight. It turns out it’s your little sister. Her hair is all tangled, she is wearing the oldest shirt you have, and she has no water. You know you’re being punished. So, you sleep on the floor and cry.

Your Sunday ritual consists of scuffling to the shops to do grocery shopping, and spending the afternoon either eating or fighting with your parents. You spend all your pocket money on junk food. You spend half an hour hiding from the adults in the kitchen because they want a chat. They are trying to teach you life lessons, and you take every opportunity to play catch-up. There’s no way you can get away. So, you hide in your room and eat an entire box of Maltesers.

Someone’s getting married. Everyone is invited. But there’s only room for you. And you don’t know anyone. How can you be sure that they would accept you?

You are 13, your parents have decided you are too young for hormone blockers. You believe they are choosing to lose you.

Your only language is English, but your friends speak Spanish, Hebrew, German, Arabic, and Swahili. You don’t mind, they learn really fast.

Your ex-boyfriend is jealous because he has a new girlfriend, and you are only dating your younger brother.

Your two best friends are in a triangle relationship. One is your best friend in school, the other your best friend in the computer room.

Your parents want you to be able to go camping with your friends, but they don’t want to come too. You should go camping anyway. You go camping for the first time and only fall out with one friend. The new girl comes, and things get awkward.

You are talking to your friend about self harm, and you realise you are not the only one who hurts. You feel guilty, and hate yourself for it.

You listen to the same music as everyone else. You pay absolutely no attention to the lyrics.

You feel stupid for having a conversation about the President of the United States with your boyfriend.

You are always writing. The last things you have written have included: diary entries, homework, drawings, a book that’s actually finished (!) but you won’t show anyone.

You are fiddling around with your hand, because you have finally figured out how to do it. You are one of the few people who do it.

You have a photo of you and your grandpa, but you don’t know where it is.

You believe in Santa Claus.

You buy a pocket rocket and fill it with helium. You test it by holding it in the car airconditioning vent, and it barely moves. You keep it in your bedroom closet, out of the way, because you have lost your nerve and don’t know how to use it.

You understand how solar systems work, and you understand the life cycles of bees.