My little sister turned thirteen today. Aside from making me feel old and jealous (she got loads of Harry Potter stuff), she reminded me a lot of myself. Getting Facebook, that’s what I did the evening of my thirteenth birthday. I was so excited, felt so grown up. Of course, I don’t use Facebook, and getting it made me into a much more private person. I started to realise that I didn’t want my parents to know everything I liked, who I was friends with. I still only have one or two guys listed as friends, because I can’t stand the teasing. I know I don’t like them like that, but I’m not good with jokes made at my expense, and I don’t think I’ll ever be. On the internet, I prefer to retain my anonymity (despite the fact that I know four people in real life who read this stuff) and I can’t do that when my mum can see everything I’m tagged in, when I can’t turn on Facebook without it being noticed. Online I don’t want to be me. I’m not me. I’m someone else, who likes the same things as I do, but who lacks the shame I feel when expressing it (I did squeal today in the library when I saw the Fantastic Beasts book though, terrifying my best friend). The internet has made me brave, but it’s not something I want to be attached to. People who read this don’t see the person I am in public, who I would be in a professional environment (literally everything I do right now is part of building up shit for my UCAS application). Yes, I’m free, but only because I choose to be. I’m taking baby steps towards being more open. I’ve named my friends, I’ve got a photo (a bad one, but still a photo), I’ve even named myself. Maybe one day I’ll do more. For now though, I’m perfectly happy to just sit here, safe in the knowledge that I am (mostly) anonymous.