I tell myself that everyone goes through 'these' phases in their life. And that it is in fact a phase, assuming I will come out of it! It makes me feel better. I'm sure we all go through similar questioning periods at least, like can I afford those shoes, do I need to top up my metcard or can I sneak through, should I have a banana or a piece of banana cake, will Sons of Anarchy give me nightmares? But then, I turned 27 and life, along with the questions, got some what serious.

For a while now I have found myself questioning my life. Not aloud, that would be weird. Internally. Day in and day out I have been screwing up my face causing premature wrinkles, looking to the Universe and my daily horiscope for answers; what do I want to do with my life?

Am I a dancer. Am I the girl who works in fashion. Am I a writer. Am I a linguist, a traveler, a nomad, a BA graduate who lost their way? And what does it all mean, what greater good can I serve?!

I know what I am, that's simple. I'm a sister, a daughter, a granddaughter, a friend, an ex girlfriend, an athlete, a foodie. I know for certain I am a thinker. I over analyse everything, I even think about how I hate that I think so much. My time spent thinking about this has led me to believe I either have too much spare time on my hands, or I am an excellent multi-tasker.

Sparing you the gory details of my life, as we have only just met and I want to entice my readers not alienate them; due to a series of events (the good, the bad and the regretfully ugly), I have been driven to really analyse where I want to be in my life and why. What makes me happy and putting the appropriate steps in place to pursue that.

So I write to you, sitting at my desk in my humble but biasly brilliant home in Chelsea, New York City.