I’m toast.
I’m burnt toast.
I’m the charcoal you scrape off the toast with your knife.
OMG! Year Eleven results are out today, my boyfriend is MIA and my mum is acting totally weird. I’d turn to my BF Kat, but her life has suddenly gone from hero to zero. I don’t know who to talk to and everyone’s got their own
problems. Would life be better if I wasn’t such a stresshead? A wry, first-hand account of trying to cope with the almost overwhelming burden of being sixteen.
