Aged 14, you’d never have guessed that I was an Internet troll. I was insecure and determined to show how individual I was by only listening to bands that would never make the Radio One playlist and wearing T-shirts that demonstrated quite how misunderstood I was.
I hated anything that was "mainstream "–- the colour pink, the fashion industry, pop music, foam parties. Instead, I wallowed in my misery and the belief that "other people just didn't understand me." I know. Insufferable, right?
I didn’t even know what a troll was in 2002. Hell, even the Internet was new to me. I’d never laid my eyes on a meme, people weren’t naming their babies "Hashtag" FFS, and cats weren’t that big a deal.
My parents had signed up to AOL, back when you had to use a free CD nicked from Sainsbury’s to sign up to anything, and I got my very first email address. I can’t remember what it was, but at a guess it was probably something to do with death and roses and had 69 in it.
I had my own account login too, so I customised everything and entered the dicey world of chat rooms to whinge about my perfectly normal life.
And then I turned into a troll.