The hero of my story 

After almost 1.5 years,  44 flights, eleven amazing countries, one broken ankle and not one clean top left in my backpack, it’s time to go home.

Two years ago I was the owner of a house and a car. I had a nice job. But every morning I woke up with regrets, because I didn’t follow my dreams.

Today I’m going home with only 103 Euros left in my bank account, but with the biggest smile on my face, because I feel richer than ever before.

Last weekend I spent some time in the jungle of Sumatra. From a distance I was watching an orangutan mum and her baby playing in their nest. After ten minutes the mum moved in my direction and her baby followed.

And there she was, just right in front of me. She looked at me and I wasn’t scared at all, because I was looking into the most beautiful pure eyes I’ve ever seen.

She sat down and took me by my hand. She pulled me to the ground so I needed to sit in front of her. I looked down at my hand in hers. It felt like we were the only ones on the planet. Time didn’t exist anymore.

In that moment I realised I took my own life in my hands the day I decided to live my life and to follow my dreams. When writing the story of my life, I finally was the one holding the pen. I became the hero of my story. And I loved every minute of it.

She softly squeezed my hand and I squeezed back.



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