Sometimes the key to survive the final leg of this long, torturous (studying) ordeal is denial. I deny that I'm tired, I deny that I've just been thrown a curve ball, I deny that I'm scared, I deny that I'm in want of la pasion de pharmacy, I deny how badly I want to succeed and most importantly I deny that I'm in denial.
Hoping that after a while the lies start to seem like the truth, and the truth is this; away and alone without any tangible persons of authority to provide censure, I've been free falling, expecting resistance and meeting none, like unexpectedly stepping off a curb. Being an adult and having to answer only to your self is not all that great as they make it out to be. But being an adult, I suppose, also means this, having to look myself in the mirror, admit that I've been wrong and face the repercussions with good faith and in good nature. . . While I admit my mistake, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa, and have since pulled myself together, I'm still in denial, not quite believing the magnitude of this latent ripple effect just yet, and praying fervently that everything will fall into its perfect place, my past mistakes and incapability for delaying gratifications notwithstanding.