My name is Imogen. Well, it's not actually just Imogen, there's a lot more to it, but we'll stick to Imogen for now. Or Imi if you prefer, and if you hate words that are spelt the same backwards and forwards like my best friend used… does, then you can spell it Immy.

I don't really know where to start, so I'll describe my life as it was before someone grabbed it, turned it upside down, shook it violently, kicked it a bit, broke it into tiny pieces and buried the pieces at the bottom of the sea. The only good thing is, if you get buried deep enough, you'll eventually fall out the other side. And you never know, there might just be a fairy godmother there waiting to stick you back together again. Or in my case…

But yes, when I was 15. What was my life like in 2030. It's hard to think back to that life. The life of complaining over a photograph, getting told off over a joke, running everywhere with that energy I used to own, the same energy which was used to tease my little brother George mercilessly. He loves it really though. I've always got on well with him, despite the 5 years age difference. Well I did. Suffering is a funny thing, it takes you closer to some but further away from the rest. He didn't know how to cope with me, and, and there's nothing as horrid as seeing you little brother shy away from you. Glance at you from across the hallway like you've turned into some type of monster…

Sorry, I've changed time again. I'm probably confusing you. I'm certainly confusing myself, although it is 4 in the morning . I need to sort it out, get it straight in my head, because blocking it out isn't working, and I don't have long left. I just want this horrible nightmare to end. Finally. Once and for all.

But then it never will, I'll never forget it, ever, I'll just learn to cope with it. And I guess this is my way of doing that tonight. It's already becoming hazy in my mind, a thick mixture of nightmares and pain and self-hatred. If I can set it out clear in my mind then at least that's something.

Right now, I'm just going to go back again. Pretend you haven't read any of this. I'm not one for crossings out, if I bothered to write it, I'm jolly well not going to go back and ruin it.

On the 28th May, 2015, Lady Imogen Diana Elizabeth Grace was born, the second child to the then Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, and subsequently the 4th in line to the British Throne. (That's me by the way, incase you hadn't figured). 'An adorable baby girl, with her father's blue eyes and blonde hair', to quote the press. Unfortunately, the idiots who like to write articles worked out I have the same colourings as my late, paternal grandmother, so now we're practically the same person in their eyes. Every, single, fucking, time I step out the door someone somewhere finds a photo of her and sticks it next to me, and BOOM, they think they're a genius. Don't get me wrong, I think she was an amazing woman, just listening to my dad's stories, just seeing her beautiful face staring out of the picture placed on my bedside table. I'm proud to have her as my grandmother. I never thought I could miss someone I've never met as much as I miss her.

I just want to be my own person for once.

But it's ok though, because I have the most amazing family in the world. And I mean that. I have the most caring and supportive parents ever. I even love my two pain-in –the-arse brothers. George was born 5 years after me, on the same day our great-grandmother died and consequently, the day I became Princess Imogen of Wales. He's a little idiot my brother, and I never fail to remind him of this, although deep down he knows I love him really. But honestly, even at the age of 10 he cared more about his appearance then I did, putting gel in his hair like there was no tomorrow. But we used to get on well, pulling faces at each other across the room at each other during boring speeches, getting told off together about it the next day while Alex would stare at us, a look of utter disgust on his face.

I wasn't at close to Alex(ander) then, my older brother, born 2 and a half years before me on the eve of 2013. But we had our moments, the times when we were united in a common goal- mainly paparazzi deceiving, we did that a lot. Our relationship was always strained, right from when we were little and I was more keen than him at football, more visicous too- kicking him in the face so hard he wouldn't come near me for weeks. But after, after shit happened we became closer, it's funny really, it's almost like my brothers swapped roles, I never realised how much ALex would understand, how much… And to think of all the time I wasted.

2030. 2030. Right. Well if I'm not with my family, I'll almost certainly be with Taz. Taz, short for Anastasia, horrible name right? I'd love to say it belongs to a horrible person too, but it doesn't, it belongs to a girl with wavy, dirty blond hair and bright brown eyes. My best friend basically. My best friend who always gets me into trouble at school, the kind who my parents want to hate because she encourages me, but they can't because she's like a second daughter to them, constantly round one of our many homes in the holidays, and has been since the age of 7.

Taz who I love dearly. Taz who I tell everything to, who understands it all to. Taz who I would plan my escape with, her smuggling me in her suitcase on her holiday to Spain, where we would both run away and start a new life as miners. Taz who I used to take stupid pictures with, and then decorate the empty space above my bed with them. Taz who will listen to me for hours if I need it, and then will turn around and tell me all her problems too.

All her problems. She trusted me, and look where that got her.

She would've been better off without me. SHE WOULD STILL BE AL…

I can't do this. It's just coming back, the guilt which has refused to leave me, even after all this time. But I must tell you, if you're to understand half of what I've been through. I'll move on.

So it's 2030, and I go to Marlborough College. Alex goes to Eton, and George is due to go there once he finishes Prep school. Dad wanted me to go to a girl's school, but mum argued my case. She said if Alex and George are going where dad went, then I should get to go where she went.

And there I met Maddy, short for Madelaine. (Everyone's name seems to be short for something)I love her so much, and she means so much to me. She's a lot quieter than me, a lot better behaved than me too. I don't mean to play up in class, I just get bored easily and talking seems to ease the boredom, or sending messages, or pulling faces, or whistling… you get the drift. In fact, I seem to get into trouble a lot. At first the teachers tried to ignore it, but then I stopped being unique and interesting. So then I get in trouble at home for getting in trouble at school…

You never realise how much you're going to regret things until they happen do you? I'm going to have to tell you now, I can't keep this up any longer. So here you go, my story: