Sometimes I realise what I actually am. Just a couch potato with a head full of contemplative thoughts. I’m not even sure you can even call it imagination.

I am sitting here now watching Gilmore Girls, watching actors who are pretending to be all caring and intelligent but who possibly aren’t. Am I the same? Am I just an actress in denial. I hardly ever leave the house – a five minute walk to the shops seems like an epic journey.

I wanted to be a writer – I even write lists of ideas but I never pitch them. If I have to write a story, I procrastinate and watch rubbish like Gilmore Girls. I am a waste of space.