Slackage There is something bold about the text on these books I inevitably stare at. But I am not only seeing a surface..I am seeing the figures and elements that make up the book. I think unto myself, why am I incapable of holding a love life? Why are differences I have with individuals so increasingly vast? I aks unto no one! I need not the opinion of a random being; hence said, I enjoy this solitude. ‘Things’ are quite to the complexities. There is not a moment in these days where I haven’t thought or spoken of the complexities. EDNOS, bulimia, anorexia, binge eating disorder, clinical depression...though the latter is much more definite and the first, obvious. I feel major slackage, as if that is a word. Though it serves the purpose I sought. Not seek. I put it behind me here forth. I regrettably search my neural circuits and brain matter for the answer to awaiting inquiries: Are you sure you want to be a doctor? Why does such slackage exist and therefore hinder me so? I’ve found only one answer. Medicine is definite. Do not cross my interests. Decease. Surgery = physical debilitation of me. How it will strain me. With my consciousness ritualizing overtime on my academic progress, I cannot see myself being mentally intact before OR after surgery. Aye...adelante..
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