nirvana.

If I were to have any other career apart from mine, anything at all, I would choose to be a writer. I would write poetry so beautiful it would make you cry, I would write stories to transport you to another world, I would open up my heart and pour it into the pages of classics. The only problem is, I can't write. It's like the english language is a field of flowers, and some people have this amazing ability to skip and dance through it, not treading on a single petal, it's like they're floating. I, on the other hand, somehow manage to rip through the field, hacking my way across it in my attempts to reach the other side.

If you have read any of my previous blogs you will understand where I am coming from. I barely edit what I write, and I type exactly the way I would speak if we were to have a conversation. It isn't the most beautiful arrangement of words, but it seems to work for me. Reading this, you would not think that in year 12 English had been my best subject. It's funny, isn't it? The truth is, you really don't have to be a good writer to do well in English. I'm not. I have a good memory, so I could store about 15 different paragraphs in my head, and arrange them to make an essay that would answer any question. I just wrote what I thought, like this. My 'Whose Reality?' piece was like this, conversational. You just need to remember a few long words and you're pretty much right.

It's hard to decide in year 12 what career you want. it's like, "Here-choose a path for the rest of your life and hope to God that you get it right otherwise you're completely screwed and will probably end up on the dole or dead by the time you're 25." It's all very nerve racking. I sometimes wonder if I have made the right decision. Did I just choose med because it was the hardest thing to get into? Because it sounds impressive to say? Did I just love Grey's Anatomy so much that I tricked myself into believing that all that is how a hospital actually works? Do I just want to be mega rich and earn lots of money? Do I want to be a hero, and have my picture in the paper for something? Do I want an award? These are the questions that hound me every time I think about what I'm doing. But then I think about anything else I could be doing and it doesn't seem as good. There is nothing I would rather be doing.

I had this dream the other night. There was this little boy on a stretcher about to be taken somewhere, and he was calling out to me. He was saying "please help me, please save me. Make it stop hurting, make me better, please help me." It was so strange. I hugged him tight and he pressed his forehead against mine and i told him that i would help him, that I would save him and that everything would be alright. Then they took him away. I was so completely overwhelmed with this feeling that have rarely had before. I so completely and utterly knew exactly what I needed to do. It was like all of a sudden I had found what I had been out on Earth to do. Like every choice, every decision I had made up until this point was leading me to this exact moment, and I was finally where I was meant to be. It was the weirdest thing. I woke up after that, and the dream hasn't faded like most of them do. It is still as clear as if it had actually happened.