PROPER

I don’t know how to start this eloquently. It all started in kindergarten when there was a gush of love in portraying the man in white blazer with a “mic with short tubes and 2 ear pieces” around my neck. It felt awesome; the next portrayals were an army of splendid and overwhelming feeling of a half-full glass of fulfillment of a childhood ambition. As a constant and expected process, I graduated then the gamble of life started.

I thought earning a Bachelor’s degree is not enough because I need to fill that half-empty glass. All along, what I knew was right. With all the pressures and expectations, I enrolled in a med school with a face covering the poignant mine. Yes, this is what I wanted ever since, but am I only covering a can of garbage of emotions? My parents never pushed me. They were there silent, calm, and ready whenever I need them. I know for a fact that somehow I disappointed them that’s why I’m here in a med school to cover it up.

The first day of my career as a med student was full of mixed sentiments of hesitations, expectations and excitement. I admit, I’m a nerdy looking guy. Most might think that my skull is jam-packed and bursting with a roller coaster type of cerebellum that has numerous gyri. These “most” people are wrong, though. I’m such a mediocre, middle class and not the top of the line. There were 18 other aspiring doctors on that room. Days passed by, weeks by weeks, then months. Many problems, intra or interpersonal, aroused. Then a year and a half passed. I intended to quit. I thought I can’t carry it anymore. That “it” was not about my leadership. I don’t know if it’s the people around or the environment where I am is the “it.” Days that followed were very tough. I wanted to but I can’t move. The Dean, whom I respect most, asked me why. I have plenty of pressurized tanks of answer but I never said a word. Unspoken. I resented my fellow, who’s a counterpart of who I am, when he quitted and left our, my questions unanswered. Maybe he has a point, silence is the answer. I know, and everybody knows that the system’s stream is infected and I don’t want it to run into mine. I want to stop the infection. I know, the infecting organisms are far advanced in mutations. I wanted to leave, I still do. And if I don't, I will be fully infected. Septicemia. Yes, I will make the glass three fourths full, but I’m losing a pack of whole blood as a compromise. I know, I will regret if I’ll be in that compromise, so I’m quitting, but i will not leave, and I’ll do it chronological and proper.

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