Wrapped in the cotton wool of a suburban middle-class living, the closest I had ever come to war was playing video games. The closest I had ever come to starvation was waiting for the microwave to finish. The closest I had ever come to suffering was seeing the news on my flat screen TV. I was given everything in the world from birth, but I wasn’t born to live an easy life. At 21, even before my journalism degree was handed to me, I had already booked a ticket to the belly of the beast. I was driven by the insatiable desire to seek the truth and see the world for what it really was – a place steeped in darkness and journalism was the only way I could bring light to it.