She opened the candy-colored Paper Bag and brought out the fillings one by one. Out went a box of crayons, a sheet of stickers, and a notebook, to which she immediately said "Ah, I'll use this as scratch paper instead." Then, there were a mini notepad, a bookmark, a few colored pencils, a pencil case, and a small stuff toy.

After littering the bed with everything the tiny paper bag used to hold, she turned to me, "Ate Osy, you should give me more of these. Just school stuff. Like the dozen of pens, crayons, and colored markers you gave me last Christmas. Don't give me toys. I've grown tired of them anyway."

I thought she won't appreciate the birthday gift I had for her. But as I see her leave the room, paper bag in an embrace, I knew I was wrong. She loved the gift, however simple it was, and she knew she wanted it.

My 8-year-old cousin Maraj knew what she wanted: Just school stuff, Ate Osy. Whereas, there I was, not knowing what I wanted for myself.

For the past weeks, I've been haunted by a thought that has grown consistently since that day I met the Idol. Did I make a wrong decision? Did I just let go of my biggest dream? Did I really ditch the job I've always wanted?

I was offered an editorial job in the magazine I so wanted to be a part of since I joined the community. But I refused. Why? Because of proximity, the possible financial decline, and the lifestyle change. I could think of a million other reasons to justify my weird decision, but lately, it has just boiled down to one: comfort zone, and how I don't want to get out of it.

I wanted the job, but I feared my lack of expertise. I wanted the working environment, but I feared the unfamiliarity. I wanted the fulfillment of the dream, but I feared the changes it will bring.

Fear got in the way. Fear overcame the dream.

God, is there any other way to remedy this? Did I really make a wrong choice?