and he is beautiful, but he don't mean a thing to me

Things I am not sure about:

1) The affectionate term “hun”. It can’t stand for “honey”, surely.
What could it mean? Hunky? Hungry? Hunchback? I’m not sure I
like being referred to in this way.

2) Why I don’t trust people to mention me in conversation and
not say something like “This girl means well but god, she’s rude/
annoying/a complete freak”. I think from now on you should all
refer to me as The Charming Beautiful One to ease my
growing paranoia.

3) How to make porridge. The Ready-Brek Box sits on top
of the oven, untouched since December.

4) How I’m supposed to do a Masters in Creative Writing next
year when I have forgotten how to write.
“It was only when you got closer that you realised he was a person.
In the distance he looked like a tree, one of those small firs that
appeared around Christmas time in the old world to mark the
coming of advent.”
This is not good writing.

5) Why my fish is still alive.

6) How I’m supposed to turn into a real person with a job and
a house and a network of interesting and intelligent acquaintances
when I’m so bloody confused about everything all the time.