Hey you...

Yes, you. It's me, Kelly. Yes, I know I look a little different. I'm about seven kilos heavier, with long, dark hair (a year ago you would have cried at the thought of this). The complexion is probably a little paler, but ultimately much clearer. The clothes are different, the accessories are better. Your accent is sounding ridiculously British.

It's definitely still you underneath though. On the occasional night that you cook it's always pasta, because that's all you can really succesfully do. You still swear like a trucker and you will watch Sex and the City when you're sad. Taste in men is still crap- taste in best friends is still particularly excellent. Sleeping patterns are still shite and you love nothing more than being in bed- eating, reading, sleeping, whatever. Bed is where it's at. Speaking of which, your room is obviously different. Yet strangely, it looks and feels like you've been there forever. The duvets are white and purple, there are photos all over the walls. There are aromatherapy oils and candles for relaxation and a huge stack of Vanity Fair and Marie Claire. There's a massive window which catches the sun and you still don't put your clothes away, despite having tonnes of space for which to put them. Yep, I would say you very succesfully managed to transfer your childhood bedroom into your London home.

So, we are introduced.

I can almost imagine what it felt like to be in your shoes a year ago. As a matter of fact, I've just re-read your first blog post. I can smell the excitement- get.me.out.of.here. There are whiffs of defiance and determination. The whole thing screams Classic Kelly - Fuck you, I am going to do this, and I am going to do it well.

Well kiddo, you did it, and you did it well. In fact, you are still doing it. Without giving the game away too much , there were some words that were ringing in your ears for weeks before you left and indeed the entire time you've been gone.

"You'll learn a few things.." said rather ominiously during a meeting with a notoriously accurate psychic. It wasn't a sweet, generic statement. It was said with a slight sigh and a shake of the head. The underlying currents of "your rough times aren't over yet sweetheart" was emphatically heard.

Well dear, this is what you have learnt.

That the grass isn't always greener. That life's problems (no money, shit working week, boredom, sickness, insomnia) will follow you wherever you go and nothing will ever change except your ability to deal with whatever life throws up.

Life will throw up. Time and time again. Your wallet will get stolen, you will get sick while you are on holiday, your landlord will put your rent up, the guy you are seeing has a girlfriend, your work hours will be long, your to-do list longer and your weight is at an all time high. Shit gets overwhelming but in the grand scheme of things it 'aint all that bad.

Friends and family are, and will always be, more important than boyfriends. And believe it or not, the social circle that you formed in high school will not always be your social circle. In fact, it probably shouldn't be.

Life works in mysterious ways. Lots of luck and coincidence is always at play but sometimes things work out so perfectly that it's hard to deny the fact that you're probably meant to be exactly where you are. Which for you is a strange thought because up until this point you have spent most of your time whiling away the hours, daydreaming about where you would much rather be.

Lastly, but most importantly, you have learnt your passport number off by heart. No longer do you rummage through your bag looking for these elusive details as a year's worth of travel has permanantely engrained the number in your brain.

Nothing was more fun learning than this.