It's a thunderstorm outside. The rain seems to pour without mercy. The lightning breaks the darkness with a loud grumble. I am inside, calmly sipping my chilled wine. Maybe I am calm because a thunderstorm is breaking havoc in my too. Do people who are lucky enough to face the uncertainty of opening a new chapter face the same thing?

I am coming home. After three years of a certain study period, I am coming home. Why? That it a question I am yet to know the answer. I guess the hardest thing about living abroad is that flight back from home. Where the realization that your family is getting older without you grips your heart like a constrictor killing its prey.

I do not have anything waiting for me after I hand in my thesis this month. The job I wanted and worked hard for to continue my study did not happen. It started the thunderstorm, not because of not getting it but the questions it raised within me on where I would like my life to bring me.

When I was 5, a clown at a friend's birthday party asked me what I want to be when I grew up. I said I wanted to be a boss, like my dad. My dad could have never been prouder, boasting to everyone he knew how I wanted to be a boss. Another year later I wanted to be a president. Then a lawyer. A photographer. A war-journalist. A writer. A designer. An economist.

My study intrigues me. To help things out I found out soon enough that I am good at it. It developed me, challenged me and for that I am grateful for. But not getting that job made me realize of these passions I turned away from for the fear of not being good enough. The risks. The uncertainties.

I did not get the job I wanted. I do not know what I will do.

I enrolled myself to a summer French course, 4hrs a day from 9am for two weeks. I am taking the test tomorrow.

I am flying home in August, travelling first to Borneo and then back to Jakarta for the foreseeable future.

And I could not be happier.