Notebook Scribbles

My First Death

I took a deep, shaky breath. The feelings rammed into me like a freight train. As I stood in my room, after a day of classes, exams, and labs, more exhausted than words can describe... the truth sunk in.

When I was little, the world seemed wide and amazing. I was always curious, picking up any book I could get my hands on, trying to make out the words, ogling at the pictures. Some of my favorites books, besides adventure stories, were anatomy books. I was fascinated by how a bunch of cells made something so complex - humans not only had basic instincts, but have varied emotions, higher thinking, and could create art. I wanted to learn how it happened.

In elementary school, we fiddled around with basic concepts, making science projects such as volcanoes or the rainbow celery experiment. In high school, it got a bit more serious, but way more exciting as we started to dissect animals, mix chemicals, and dig deeper into the various disciplines. It was during high school that I started to learn more about medicine. I have always been surrounded by doctors through my mother's job, but now I was starting to understand what was happening. I wanted to be a part of the hustle, the rush of thinking on your feet, combining the major scientific disciplines to improve someone else's life. I wanted to be a part of that world. When I told my family that I wanted to become a doctor, it was like I already graduated. They would always beam with pride at the thought, toting around how their daughter was going to be an MD/DO. The pressure started to build, but I was ready.

Now, I know what you are thinking, perhaps it was only a child's pipe dream and I idealized the profession and was now facing reality. If only it could be so easy. College came around and as I was exposed to more pre-med classes and clinical experiences, my passion grew. Sure, it was hard work, but I was up for the challenge. I studied harder, I researched more, even took an internship. I wanted to explore some of my other interests and wished I could do more than just squeeze them in around my pre-med schedule, but I thought it was a small price to pay for my dreams. I was determined, which covered up the ache I started to feel.

I couldn't tell you when the wonder started to fade or when the anatomy pictures just became questions on an exam. I couldn't tell you when I just started to go through the motions instead of fully experiencing my classes. But it was just a phase, so I dug my heels deeper, believing that this was part of the process and would pass eventually. I took my MCAT, got ready to apply, but my GPA was not high enough. So I applied to a post bacc-master's program. I was excited to get in, but behind that excitement was a slight bitterness on my tongue. For a brief moment, that spark returned and I was engaged in all my classes and everything was back to normal. I could do this! Maybe that ache was just a bit of burnout and will pass after all.

It intensified. Classes became chores and I was not seeing the point in much of it anymore. I did not want to give up on my dreams when times got tough; I wasn't that person. I wasn't a coward or a quitter. So I gritted my teeth and kept going...for a bit. 

Everyone noticed before I did. Close friends would ask me if I was ok, even strangers were concerned when I walked into a room - soulless. They say that your first death is when you lose your passion, if that is the case, it seemed as though everyone got an invite to my funeral save for me. I was so focused that I did not notice when I died, I just assumed I was sick.

But at that moment, alone in my room, I finally made my way to the tombstone. I finally realized that the passion has left, perhaps a while ago. The deep ache that I felt for so long, made its way to the surface, welling up in my eyes and gliding down my face. I don't know how long I was there, at one point, my roommate came home. I don't know what my next moves are, part of me is very afraid. But honestly, I never felt more alive. 

Authors Note: 

So this story was inspired by the fact I did decide to not pursue med school and all the feelings of making a decision to no longer pursue something because you lost the passion for it. Not gonna lie it was the scariest thing I did to date, but seriously liberating, in the sense I get to pursue other things. Anyway, this particular story came to mind when I listened to Black Swan by BTS, which talks about the fear of losing passion for something you have always loved doing( in their case music, me medicine).  So yeah, it got me in the feels and I wanted to write it down.

But yeah, I am going to start posting some short stories here in addition to my main works, so ideas are welcome! These stories are basically what comes to mind at a given time.  I apologize for being away for so long, between the holidays and job, hunting and life, but I will get back to posting! Thank you so much for your support!