Meet the back pack baby!

So hello everyone to my blog well if you can call it a blog. It's me trying to learn how to write better because dyslexia takes over (thank god for Grammarly) and to keep you interested in my wonderfully mad life.

My name is Fyer-Hune but, here you can call me backpack baby. You may think it's random but if you knew me and saw me you would understand that I literally go everywhere with a backpack. Work, night out, festival, just going to the corner shop its there. Rain, snow, sunshine, morning and night its there. It lives right next to my bed only an eyesight away.
I'm not obsessed or need it (I promise).

It's more like a comfort blanket because you never know when you will need the essentials inside of it. Everyone these days is on about WW3 or a zombie apocalypse which means a bag full of useless stuff to protect myself like cheap makeup, a broken umbrella, three sets of headphones full of ear wax and a book that will take me about twenty years to finish is all absolutely essential to power through this so-called war or zombies.

When they say zombie apocalypse I'm sure they all just mean teenagers stuck to their phones that they only groan and walk very slowly. They defiantly don't have any cannibalism bite in them unless you insult Justin Beiber and say they have a small bum.

WW3 is just angry men cyberbullying each other until they get their gangster pack behind them so then they get the balls to say something to each other's faces. Or they just threaten missiles at each other like that's the only sensible way of sorting an argument out.

I'm going to be completely honest and let you all know that I am that weird millennial young woman who doesn't have any interest in politics and doesn't have an opinion on it. Go on... I know what you all think...how can I not take an interest in it. My heads got too much colourful, crazy stuff going on to keep me busy than to worry about something I can't control in the first place.