Coerced into a life of domestic and public servitude. Our unrealised dreams crushed by the unnatural pressures of a mundane existence. Trapped between a post-war generation and a generation that can pursue their dreams. “You can be whatever you want. You must get a job!” Innocence, naivety and ignorance of youth abused by a heartless society driven by greed and status. People ask “If you could go back…?” You know, I actually might. Writing comes as easy to me as breathing, which it did when I was younger just as it does now; for a long time the unnatural pressures of a mundane existence and decent into escapist oblivion put a pillow over my face and smothered it out of me. I wonder, unhelpfully, where would I be if those words weren’t trapped inside for so long? Would it be better or worse? Has my suffering made me a better writer? Have my experiences given me a better understanding of the world of which inspires me to write? Impossible to know, yet here I am, wondering.