When I tell people what I study, the next question is usually what kind of lawyer I want to become. The honest answer is that I am not even sure whether I want to become a lawyer. That answer seems to disappoint people. A law degree sounds like a straight road from the outside: study law, become lawyer, wear serious clothes, argue professionally. The more I learn, the less straight it looks. Different countries have different qualification routes. Language matters. National law matters. Some jobs need additional study, some do not, and half the interesting possibilities have titles nobody outside the field recognises. I chose an international programme because I liked the idea of studying systems across borders. I also chose it because I was good at writing, cared about politics, and had no single profession calling my name. That felt like a decent reason when I applied. In rooms full of people who have wanted a specific legal career since childhood, it can feel unserious. There is also a practical fear underneath it. My family hears “law” and hears security. I hear a large number of possible routes, several languages I do not fully command, internships I may need to finance, and the possibility that I will graduate still unable to answer the question. At the same time, I do not regret choosing it. I like learning why systems are built the way they are and who gets protected by them. I like that a tutorial can move from a technical rule to a moral argument in ten minutes. I like hearing how the same issue looks completely different to people who grew up elsewhere. Maybe the problem is not that I lack a plan. Maybe I am expecting a degree I have barely started to provide a finished identity. So my current answer is: I do not know what kind of lawyer I want to be, or whether lawyer is the destination. I am trying to learn enough to ask a better question.