As a writer, I should be able to thread lives joined through chapters. An infinity of words and sentences that connect stories in a string of pages. Junctions, contrapositions, juxtapositions. With adverbs, verbs, consonants and vowels, I weave the stories of the imaginary and the semi-real. Each page leads to figurines trapped forever in the aeon of time. Writing is the greatest adventure one can have. And yet I can't seem to find the words to my tune. I am as driftless as a sailor without a siren, or a painter without a muse. Blank pages of paper taunt me.

If you ask me to write a PR copy, or perhaps a comprehensive sales analysis report, or even when I'm at my most creative, a slogan for a new marketing campaign... I'm your girl. Now, when the day turns to dusk, and I sit in front of my laptop with a cup of steamy tea, exhaling its smoke in a rhythmically way... Then, is when I realise the farce that I am for believing I can write something more than marketing copy. I'm nothing more than a wannabe writer, if I don't get these damn words in a piece of paper, coherently, and creatively, as so many have done before me.

No one knows who they are at 22 years of lie. I'm not the exception, even though I have fallen into the illusion that I'm a fully formed human being. This is the last leg of my academic journey and I have pursued a degree that puts food on the table, rather than filling my soul.

Regardless of my rational intent to pursue a white collar profession, my guardian angel has pushed me towards my heart's desire. And that leads me to be sitting in front of the red-haired woman, in this office with no natural ventilation and a suffocating radiator, on the second floor of the Drysdale Building, in the City University in London.

"Germany?" I say in shock at the offer presented by Wendy, my career advisor. "I don't speak German."

The middle-aged woman takes her spectacles and stares at me impassively. "You can always learn. Besides, they want an English-native speaker for this role."

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. My hands drift to my lap and contort together nervously. "I need something in the UK... or Ireland. I can take something in Ireland."

Wendy exhales and leans back in her chair. "Natalie, I'm offering you a paid internship in Dusseldorf. A well-paid internship. All I can offer here are unpaid internships, where you'll spend your days running coffee errands. These guys need a content developer. You will write and get paid for it. That's the perfect role for you."

"It's marketing content, not writing, writing."

"You get to publish your words and may I remind you, again, it's paid. How many students can boast about getting a paid internship?" she reiterates politely.

I need the money, and Wendy knows it.

Wendy places her spectacles back in her face and adjusts them to fit her frame. "Your professors wrote excellent recommendation letters. You are first in almost all your classes, and you have a plethora of extra-curricular activities." She removes her glasses and looks at me, almost sympathetically, "But no work experience. This is a golden opportunity, and it's only for a semester. Once you are back, you'll be in a better position to start your creative writing journey. Publishers want to see writing experience. Whatever that may be. This is in your best interest."

I take a deep breath and contemplate my options, or lack of.

"They also offered to pay for your flight, but you'll need to arrange your own accommodation," she says.

Wendy shuffles some papers at her desk and finds a pamphlet. "This is a youth hostel you can stay until you find your own place."

I take the pamphlet and stare at it. My mind is blank. I need this internship if I am serious about chasing the impossible dream. I need it to be paid because... well, there's only so much I can take. And, I have taken enough. But, Germany?

Wendy senses my indecision. "They need an answer asap. I will need to offer this to someone else if I don't hear from you tomorrow."

I raise my eyebrows at the ultimatum. My mind races with an imaginary pro and con list.

Wendy coughs awkwardly to interrupt my senseless stupor.

"Okay, I guess."

Wendy smiles, "Great, they'll be pleased. Your point of contact will be Mr Lukas Wagner. He is the CEO."

I frown, "The CEO hired me directly?"

Wendy laughs at my naivety. "It's a start-up. He is the founder. It's probably him, you, and two more people. The company is WellYou, and it's a fitness and wellbeing tech company."

The unique sound of the printer interrupts my many thoughts.

"You'll need to write a monthly report and email it to me" She hands me a list. "These are the guidelines for you to complete the report. When your semester is up, I will travel to observe you, interview Mr Wagner and other relevant personnel regarding your performance, and write my final report. This is your assessed component to get the credits for the module."

I nod in agreement.

Wendy hands me another piece of paper. "Read, sign and date it. I'll start processing your paperwork. Mr Wagner is expecting you sooner rather than later. Once I have your flight details, I will pass it along."

I get up and shove the paperwork in my backpack. My head spins with everything that needs to happen before anyone with a minimum of common sense moves to another country.

I sigh and I pickup my bag in a zombie like stupor.

My mind cogitates. First, I need to leave my student accommodation, but where will I keep my stuff? I also need clothes, warmer clothes, I guess? Should I apply for a credit card? Will they deliver it on time? Was this really the wisest choice I should be making right now?

Wendy gets up from her desk, intuitively guessing the many questions floating my mind. "You'll be fine. Apply for a credit card today, just in case you are cash strapped for a few days, and bring enough cash with you for the first month. Can your parents help you?"

My mind drifts to my mother. Would she?

"Not sure" is all I can say.

Wendy nods. "I can always ask if the university can lend you some money and we can always get it back with your last paycheck. I'll also check some financial aid. With your grades, we might get you something, but from my experience, it will only kick in halfway through your internship."

When I get out of the door, I grab my phone to call my mother. "I'll let you know." I respond mechanically, not sure what exactly I'm okaying in the exchange of information I've received for the last thirty minutes of my life.

I make my way to the door.

"Wait!" Wendy calls. She walks back to her small desk, opens one of the bottom drawers, and withdraws a small red book. "This will help you with your German" She hands me the book. "You can return it once you are back."

I smile gratefully. "Thank you for everything."

Once I walk out of the office, my heart leaps at the offer and my acceptance. What am I going to do in Germany? I've never been away from home for over six hours and now I'm leaving the city I grew up in for months? Alone?

My stomach rumbles loudly, as it does every time I have an exam, I'm lying, or I have a dentist appointment. But it never rumbles when I'm hungry. Some people say they have butterflies in their stomach. I'm pretty sure my stomach houses a feline.

My hand grips the phone as if my life depended on it. Immediately, I have an urge to call my best friend.

Without fail, and within two short rings, she picks up. "Hey, sweetie," her melodious voice greets me.

"Hi, mom," I respond while walking the University hallways exchanging small pleasantries with some of its occupiers.

"So, did she have something for you?" she asks. 

I sigh in response, unsure of how to approach the subject.

I know that whatever the cost, my mother will sacrifice her own comfort to help me reach the stars. She is my guardian angel that always pulls me higher than I ever thought it's possible and believes in me, even when I doubt myself. And that is more often than not.

"It's okay if she hasn't. We will figure something out."

I smile at her reassuring tone. It's always been me and mom. A single parent raising her only daughter and excelling at it. I could lie and say I have a burning desire to meet my father, but I never have. Of course, I had moments where having a dad in my life would have meant the world to a little starry-eyed girl. But it always has been the two of us, against the world, and I'm fine with it.

However, being a single mom in this dog eat dog world is a feat of another world. I've never had food missing on the table, but I've never had fancy toys for Christmas either. Our small flat was in a council estate and my upbringing was full of diversity and colour but also shadow and pain. I might be a Londoner, but I grew up as the child of an immigrant and that has shaped how I see the world. Often through her own eyes.

"She offered me something, a paid internship as a content developer." I finally blurt out.

My mother hollers, "That's great news, yes?"

Clearly she is waiting for the other shoe to drop. My mother is always spot on to see through me, even over a phone call.

"Well, yes, it's a writing job, and paid, but it's in Germany."

"So what?" is her immediate answer. "It's an adventure, and you can use some adventure in your life."

I sit down on the staircase outside the University where the sun shines through. "But how will I be able to afford a place to stay, and expenses for the first month? I don't know how much is the cost of living there. I don't even know how much they're going to pay me!"

"Is this an excellent opportunity for you?"

I twirl my hair in my hand, a nervous tick I gained when studying for my GCSE's. "Yes, of course."

"Will it get you closer to your dreams?" Mom doesn't wait for my reply. "Then you need to do it. I'll help you in any way I can."

I stay still. What she means is extra hours in an already demanding work, side jobs, and personal sacrifices. She's putting me first. Again.

"I can't ask you to do that for me."

All my life she has put herself second. From tuition classes to help me with my mathematical skills, to piano classes to help me develop my cognitive abilities, or writing classes when I finally found my calling... All this woman has ever done is focussed towards my achievement in life. And, it makes me sick, that here I am, still demanding for more.

"Nat, you didn't ask. I'm offering. And I'm telling you, this is what's going to happen. We agreed you were going to give your writing a chance. This gets us closer to our goal."

My heart softens with her words.

"Besides, you'll pay me back."

I smiled at her words. I know exactly what is coming next.

"Yes, in luxurious cruises, I know."

She chuckles, "Nothing else, nothing more." There's a momentary silence on the line.

"Have you told Harry?"

I sighed. "No, that's my next call."

She took it well. But Harry can be a different matter all together.