Skinny to the bone on a zero hours contract with no hope. I barely saw the daylight some weeks. My black matted hair smelt of cigarettes and alcohol whilst my nails were chipped and battered. I was broken. I had lost both my grandfather and my mother to cancer and I was losing my life to a job I hated. I no longer did the things that I loved. But before the year had ended I sat down in my dimmly lit room and wrote a list. The list cried for a way out, a route to something better, something more fulfilling. This was the first time I had wrote a list of this kind and I poured all my hopes and aspirations into it.