It's sad to think about who you are, who you are not, and what you're pretending to be. Maybe it's the weight of finals right now, but when I sit at my desk and think about how fake I am, it brings me close to tears. Where I'm going is an okay plan, but man it's such a long and horrid way to live. You won't meet anyone who is there or was there that will tell you they didn't tear their hair out or beat their heads against books.
What's even sadder is not being able to decide anymore. The decision was made 2 years ago. It's a waste of time and effort to do anything but. I'm such a damn average Jane, and they're not looking for average Janes to save lives. I'll probably happy in the end, but I'll be suffering on the way. I'll just be waiting for that gratitude and appreciation for what I do, mingled with faces of despair. Something will make everything worth it, right?
I realize I'm not in my Kimberly suit anymore. I don't even remember what color it was.
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