I feel like I'm stuck in an awkward phase between childhood and adulthood. Some days I spend cuddled up with fluffy blankets and stuffed toys, calling my mum at work for a pick-me-up chat. Other days I spend running to and from work, running errands, running home for a shower between outings, running out of time. I'm trying to find the balance.

As a teenager, I lived a very sheltered life. My school friends weren't the types to go to wild parties of underage drinking and to be honest, neither was I. Now, at twenty, I find myself lounged on an almost stranger's bed, staring at the ceiling as my vision goes blurry and sharp and blurry and sharp all at once and my face is tingling and people are talking but I don't know what they're saying and I wonder how I got here. I just want to be in my own bed, snuggled up with Pooh Bear. I can't find the balance.

And then I'm trying to impress older guys. Look at me! my lipstick screams. I'm not just a silly little girl! But I totally am, and I realise this as I call my mum to pick me up because I can't handle life for another second without a cuddle. She asks why I'm crying and I say I don't know and the saddest part is it's the truth.

It's my day off and I make plans to feel better. I write a list and everything. Sleep, it says. Washing. Lie in le sun like a cat. Have a good cry. Make something. It's 12pm and I haven't done a single thing on the list.

I haven't taken my camera out for a play in a very, very long time.