A diary about the other side of moving abroad

Pierre had had enough. He made his way home, even though he didn't know what he wanted there. He generally didn't know where he would want to be, even if he had every option available to him. Many doors had already opened up to him, but he usually had a bad timing and in trying to take advantage of as many opportunities as possible, he missed every single one.
Pierre skipped his last seminar, even though it was his favorite class of the week, and walked home. He strolled roughly in the direction of his house and let his mind wander. Occasionally he walked home, because the long way back also opened up the breadth of his thoughts. But today his thoughts were jumping from one topic to another without following any particular train of thought. It annoyed him. He was dissatisfied with himself without being able to give an exact reason why. He wanted something, but had no object to direct his will towards.
The only way home for Pierre was leading over a bridge. Pierre didn't like walking across it, but the monstrosity of the barren environment of the strait that the bridge spanned fascinated him. As Pierre stepped onto the bridge, cars roared along beside him and trains below. He heard many mechanical noises and also the resonance of the bridge. When he looked up, two monstrous bridge pillars swung up into the sky, their tops disappearing in low-hanging clouds. Pierre felt dizzy when he looked up. He felt unsafe on this bridge, which he had walked along several times before, but liked the feeling of being at the mercy of a primal force of wind, water and steel. Here he was a pawn of the elements.
When Pierre had crossed exactly half of the bridge, he stepped up to the railing and looked down onto the roaring water. Pierre felt the primal forces strongly here. Below him was the hostile, cold maw that swallowed everything that came close to him, the life-threatening height and the wind that seemed to push him into the abyss. Only he, Pierre, his will and the steel construction erected by engineers kept him on this side of the life. He liked the idea that he had something under control, that his will was powerful and kept him alive. Pierre leaned slightly over the railing and stared into the abyss. His palms and feet started to sweat. And yet the abyss somehow attracted him.