I miss my room, how easy life was, how safe i felt in my comfy bed, the hungover mornings being woken up byy little sisters cuddles, the smell of all the alcohol spilt on my carpet and watermelon perfume, the people passed out in my bed, all the homework on my beanbag i never did, the memories across my wall. I miss being a teenager.

pregunta, igual, hace falta traducir todo al inglés? que se curtan los yanquis o aprendan a leer castellano, ellos nunca nos traducen nada