Right now, a few newly announced soon-to-be clerks are rejoicing their asses off. IM was last to release its passers and it was a gigantic bitch of a wait. Congratulations, girls and boys. On April 1, you shall be interns officially.
I could have been one of them. Alas, there was that small hiccup. First semester, second year medicine. One of the darkest times of my life. I blamed myself, i blamed everything else. I was angry and depressed at the same time. I cried so much it hurt like fuck. I never imagined how failure was. I never thought it would happen to me. I put up a lot of wisdom talk to my friends who always trip but when I needed the heartwarming myself, all I could pull out was hostility and hatred.
It took me so long to accept it. I know my family tried to accept it a little, but no one said it was okay. No one talked to me about it. Everyone, including my mother (who always had something to say), just left me alone; left me to my own grieving process, to my tears and self-loathing. Until now, I still haven’t figured out if it was actually, really, okay that that happened. We never fail. I never fail. Nobody ever brings it out in conversations; no one outside of the family knows about it like it was some dark dark, deep-rooted, floating evil that no one dares to mention. Either that or it wasn’t important. I pray it’s the other one but I couldn’t help but wonder.
To my school, who made me experience this failure, fuck you. Nobody deserves to be handicapped, not by your rules, you pretentious bastard. To everyone who experienced failure, and who isn’t rejoicing right now, go pick up your handout, listen to some Dave Matthews and you’ll be alright. We’ll get there; we will.