I find myself at that time of year again when I feel rather lost. The air is warm, flowers are blooming and yet I find myself longing for a different life. Don't get me wrong I love the life I live in fact I think I live an amazing life however I often wonder if 8 would be happier as a Jane Austen novel. She is my favourite after all. I long for answers yet I to am terrified of the prospect; ignorance is bliss.
