Skins and My Mad Fat Diary used to air late on Monday nights. On Tuesday mornings, I'm talking like 6am-ish, I would sneak into the living room before my mom woke up, turn the volume low, with the subs on, and escape into this world I didn't feel like I had access to: drugs, sex, wild holidays, parties, boyfriends, girlfriends, love, lust, the lot. For less than an hour, I felt like a normal teenager, a voyeur into a world I couldn't access. And then, when the episode was up, the spell would break. I'd return the remote to where my mom had left it, and sneak back into my room to pretended I'd just woken up for school. I never got caught.

Eventually some of those experiences would drop into my life, and sadly some already had. This movie... it brought up memories of those moments that I'd prefer to not go back to. My palms were cherry red and littered with half moons by the time the credits rolled; I didn't even realise I was pressing my fingernails that hard, and I stayed outside of myself till I got home. An incredible film but a catalyst for memory, so it's one I don't think I could watch again.