Now that it is "this time next year", I can say with utter certainty: "fuck me I didn't expect that".
In January I moved to Brighton to live with Gareth, my boyfriend of two and half years, complete my journalism qualification and find a job down there.
I broke up with said boyfriend a few weeks into January and had to find somewhere else to live. I continued to study journalism and generally just got on with life, not really stopping for breath.
In happier news, I met Lottie in January - one of my favourite people in the whole world.
In February I moved into my new living quarters. I started lodging with a family and a cat. It was nice and just what I needed. I also started seeing someone new, ate a lot of nice food and heard a talk from one of my favourite journalists.
March saw me miss an Ellie Goulding gig because I am too disorganised and incompetent to live an adult life. Ellie invited me personally to the gig and put me on the guest list, so I was more than a little DISTRAUGHT to say the least.
I also spent some quality time with Silvie, the 6-year-old I lived with, and affectionately realised I didn't want children for a very long time.
I had lots of exams and did lots (a little bit) of revision.
In April I finished my journalism course, which was sad, and I had a very important job interview. I also went to Paris and almost DIED on the plane because of anxiety and panic attacks. (I think medically I probably wasn't dying.)
I saw Ellie Goulding in Paris too, which was quite literally mind-blowing.
In May I moved back home to start my new job at the Watford Observer. As a real life journalist. It was very exciting and scary.
Then in June I turned 21, got the camera I've always dreamed about, made some pretty spectacular blueberry pancakes, and went to the Harry Potter studio tour for the first time.
July was a big month. Andy Murray won Wimbledon. There were tears.
In August I spent time with my adorable cousins and loves-of-my-life. I started my burger reviews, after eating some particularly incredible burgers. And I broke up with the guy I was seeing.
In September I went to Cornwall for a necessary break. I found Bastille and I've never looked back.
A new boy came into my life too, a hunky one with strange tendencies and excellent hair.
I ate some more burgers in October and took lots of pictures of that boy. Because he likes it. And went to see the Goulding again.
We hung out in Notting Hill and Brick Lane and pretended to be cool enough to live there.
In November life got a bit hard but somehow I carried on getting up in the mornings and showering.
It wasn't all hard. I went for rum cocktails with friends, watched fireworks with my favourite 5 and 3-year-old and thoroughly enjoyed a new Watford coffee shop.
December was full of festivities, mulled wine and anxiety. Yay. I went to the South Bank Christmas market and my friends and I drowned our sorrows in noodles.
I don't want to go home, do real life and make decisions again, but I have a feeling 2014 will bring exactly that. Considering how things have turned out in twenty thirteen, I have no expectations for the coming year, just a few hopes. I barely know what to do with the next week, let alone the next 52, but I'll do my best to enjoy it - to enjoy the people that I love and love me back, read loads of good books and always eat biscuits while watching TV. After all, none of us are going to make it out alive, so we may as well drink a lot.