When I’m on my own and walking I can think. My feet are smarter than my jaw; they can do their job really well without me worrying about them. When people ask me what my favorite part of my body is I ALWAYS say my legs. It’s not how they look (quite skinny calves, BIG thighs, freaky tall toes I’ve inherited from Dad), it’s what they do.
My brain needs some love, you can tell. It’s like when you accidentally leave your glass underneath the Coke dispenser and then you get distracted by a cute dog outside (don’t tell Dave). You look around and, all of a sudden, you’re creating a mini Niagara Falls. I’m like that. I’m overflowing with everything.
Mum, who has a head like mine, says at times when you feel like your brain is about to burst, write down the facts. Not the things you think might happen. JUST the facts. You don’t need a laptop, a phone, or a pen. You doodle it all down in your head.
- I’m moving back in with my mum and her neat freak boyfriend, Gary. I moved out a few months ago because he made my life impossible, as he wants to ban dust and grime globally. Also, my mum can be a dictator. A benevolent and low-level one, but she still has some power-hungry tendencies. However, NOW we’ve agreed to compromise. I will try to keep my room clean (well, clean-ISH), stop making epic biscuit crumb bombs (Gary’s description, NOT mine) and stop Dave from surfing on Gary’s robot vacuum cleaner (impossible. Dave is a speed freak, a celebrity stunt cat, and fears no one and nothing—not even surprise frankfurters). I’m looking forward to it. I’ve missed my mum. YES, she’s too strict, but she’s basically a feminist warrior with epic taste in ankle boots. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve loved living with my dad, Granddad, and Aunty Teresa. It’s been great getting to know Dad a bit more. He’s been in other countries for a lot of my life, and I do feel like I’ve missed out. Aunty Teresa has also been living abroad in a way—just in her head on her own planet. I think Granddad has really enjoyed having me around. He may be an epic sexist stuck in the last century, but he appreciates my streak of sensible. I love all of them, but I’d like to be in a house with an actual lock on the front door that works. It’s also difficult to watch TV when two people in their forties are having a danceoff to Bruno Mars. I just want more … order. Yes, I’m tragic. I like things on the quiet side and it’s difficult to get peace when Aunty Teresa’s fixer-upper ice cream truck is playing “Pop Goes the Weasel” in the front yard. Also, my dresser is an exercise bike that no one uses. So, yes, I’d like something a bit more … normal. I will miss them, though. It’s good to know some adults stay a bit silly and don’t think that having a clean kitchen sink is the peak of their existence. Gary’s permanent aftershave is a mixture of Versace for Men and white vinegar.
- I have a boyfriend. Danny. It took a while for us to get together. I was confused or he was. We BOTH were, I guess. It all got a bit weird BUT now we are an official trademarked item. He’s funny, kind, and completely owns his own brand of Canadian handsomeness. He also has a pencil case in the shape of a llama and he doesn’t care what anyone thinks. Nothing ever seems to faze him. He’s permanently chill—like a gorgeous refrigerator but with warm arms. In the past few weeks he’s been incredible because honestly, with everything that’s been going on, things have been stressful. Danny is phenomenal at just making things seem manageable. He’s an accidental life coach. You give him a mountain and he makes it feel like a tiny hill (in the good way). I’ve really appreciated that AND I am NOT being a pathetic girl. I’ve just needed good friends who make me laugh—and he does. He’s also an epic kisser. Yeah, Danny is almost perfect. Except for liking noodles with too much garlic, but I’ve learned to live with that. Extra-strong mints are our friend.
This is the hard one. I’ll just try to say it quickly.
I can’t say it quickly. Who am I kidding? This is BIG.
- I went viral. Well, me and Dave the cat went viral. She went crazy behind me when I was doing a really personal vlog and now we’ve got real human followers and someone who manages “life content creators” (why do these people always use fancy names?) wants to meet me to discuss how she can help me become “even bigger.” Lauren, my BFF, thinks this is wonderful. Erin, previously known as Lady Uber Cool who was sensationally outed as the person behind the most EVIL Instagram account EVER, suddenly wants to be besties with me. My granddad is a tiny bit impressed even though he has no idea what it all means. I was just another rando recording videos in a shed and now, because of a bizarre feline accident, I’m big. And it’s what I want. I’m viral and I want to keep being viral. Mum gets it. She says this is AMBITION and an acknowledgment of my innate skill set and I should EMBRACE it. I want to be a success. It is FINE to say that. Viral. It’s everything I wanted and it’s EVERYTHING I want but now that it’s happened …
I’ll be really honest with you. It’s all got a bit intense. The truth is, I’m having trouble coping with this whole “being quite great all the time” thing.
What I’ve found out is that I can cope with being useless. That sounds insane, I KNOW, but it’s sort of fine to me. Even dreadful, crushing defeat and “throw my lunch all over the cafeteria whilst everyone watches and then applauds” mistakes. I just go to my special Zen Loo cubicle for five minutes, take some deep breaths, and start again. But success? Success is HARD. I now understand why celebrities do wild stuff when they get even a tiny bit famous. It’s ODD when people you don’t know like you. The whole world is applauding you and telling you you’re brilliant, but inside you don’t feel any different to how you felt a week ago. You just want to say “Dear World. I’m still the same Millie. I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing and I don’t know what I’m going to do next either and what if it all goes wrong and…”
I’m taking deep breaths. HUGE ones. Mum told me she used to be this way. It’s anxiety. She learned to manage it. So can I.
I know what you’re thinking, because I’d be thinking the same. Millie, shouldn’t you be in Vegas with a massive billboard and lots of backup dancers in sequined leotards? Because YOU have become a diva with a capital D in big lights. What a brat. What’s up with me?! It’s like when people post a selfie of themselves crying. Liam Whitehead did one when his skateboard lost its wheel. It’s good to see a guy comfortable with his full-on emotions, but we felt total sympathy for him anyway! We didn’t need a photo of his big red face with a filter that made him look like a really angry opossum with conjunctivitis.
Like Liam’s crazy eye, this is probably something I shouldn’t share with anyone because everyone will just start screaming STOP BEING AN ATTENTION SEEKER!
I KNOW this situation is wonderful. THIS IS ACTUALLY ALL A DREAM. If this were a film, I just would have run off to a massive piece of music, all smiles after a big Danny kiss, epic filter, skin LUMINOUS, probably riding a unicorn.
But this is real life and I’m waiting for disaster. In my sort of movie I’m the person shouting on the beach that the tsunami is heading straight for us. Everyone else ignores me and carries on sunbathing and eating fries.
And when the tsunami finally arrives, it’s just a tiny wave that knocks over one beach parasol and slightly splashes a lifeguard.
I need to sort myself out. And fast. What I’m doing isn’t wrong. Influencers need to be sure of themselves. It’s feminist to go after what you want. It’s basically being Beyoncé and she can do no wrong. At times like this, I need my Jay-Z.