(This is a wall collage from my bedroom at home, aged and a little childish. But it distills something so raw about being a teenager.)

I moved out last week. That's right, Angela "One Melt Down A Week" Healey has been trusted to move three hours from home and live alone. But I have been ready for this move for what feels like a very long time. One thing that really struck me, while looking around my room before I packed all my things away, was just how much I've changed over the last few years.

     

If you've seen my room tour you'll know that my walls are covered in collages, posters and concert tickets. Over time I've accumulated things that meant a great deal to me. Articles by Jamela Jamil that resonated with me from a magazine that went out of print over a year ago. Tickets from museums and train tickets from cities I want to visit again. Everything mashes together to make a homely and gorgeous bedroom. But upon closer inspection the walls of that room show just the depth of my personal growth. Concert tickets from bands I no longer like but obsessed over at 15. Photos from magazines of girls I aspired to look like but would never hope to look like now. Even better are the girls who wore what, at the time, I wanted the confidence to wear but simply didn't have. I made art out of lyrics that touched my soul. But now my soul is different. I'm different.

This point was reiterated when I noticed a cutout of a girl with a nose piercing bluetack-ed to my wall. This was a photo I had put up to encourage me to pierce my own nose. Something I have wanted for years and something I had done less than a month ago. The photos of all the girls with short hair that I put on show to have the balls to try it out myself, which I did earlier this year aswell. The "I like books more than people" cut out had so much angst it made me unconfortable to look at. There are photos of bands that once meant the world to me but now provide little solace when I need it. And that's because my problems have changed. What stressed 15 year old Angela out doesn't anymore. And I couldn't be happier about that.

When I think about how much personal growth I have been through I honestly shock myself. Just like every other person on the planet, as my age has increased so has my confidence and my abilities. I'd be lying if I said there have been times where I feel like I'm stuck back in 16 year old Angela's head again. Where I'm too scared to walk past the huge group of girls coming my way or I'm too nervous to eat before I start the day. But these moments are fleeting and for every panic attack there are 18 conversations started that younger Ang definitely wouldn't have started. Everyone is their own worst critic and if all we do is focus on how little some aspects of ourselves have changed we'll fail to notice all the fantastic things we do every day which would have been unthinkable a few years prior. I can walk with my head held high, nose ring sparkling in the sunlight as my short hair blows in the breeze knowing that at 19 years old I've come a long way from the shirvelled up terrified Ang that once thought she had grown all that a person could.