Spent the last hour fawning over pictures of Emma Watson, currently filled with a mixture of intense jealousy, self-loathing and insecurity. How is it possible for one woman to be so perfect? Usually I hate using the word ‘perfection’ to describe anything but she is the epitome of unattainable perfection, something that only exists in fairytales like Father Christmas or the tooth fairy. Last night she was at the premiere of her new film, I spent the evening questioning whether it is acceptable to cut around the mould on the cheese in my fridge. How the other half live, eh?
English rose with far too many thorns, attempting not to make a complete mess of my life and currently failing miserably. Shameless fan of Starbucks, Pinot Grigio, Quentin Tarantino and novelty jumpers.
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