A couple of days ago I turned 17, I once commemorated the idea that turning a certain age was special. In contrast, when I did hit that milestone an overwhelming feeling came over my soul, as though nothing in the world could stop me from getting older, oh wait. I at times neglected my true age, but it wasn’t because I wanted to. In other words, I am unsuitably awful at remembering things, but I do claim that memorizing things I genuinely enjoy peak my interest.

Moreover, as a youngling I would imagine a life where people were delighted with coexisting and would help each other when sick or needing. I then developed with growth and as a kid of her mother's milk, I suckled upon the ideas of being a healer or being someone who heals with diagnosing someone for treatment. To rehabilitate a person into being a more healthy self is the greatest gift anyone could ask for. That is my goal, to make people feel favored in life and help them find at least the most comfort available in life.

Notwithstanding my skin and organ cells multiplied. I grew closer to this idea and have had a strong intent of following it. I would study medical drama tv shows which had a capability to inspire like no other. So I became smart with the terminology of scientific facts about the anatomy of the body. I grew closer and closer with a fascination that wouldn’t leave my mind. No matter what, medicine would catch my eye. Nevertheless, that is my calling and that is my fascination, medicine. I can’t wait till my mind expands its knowledge and collects so much information for this reason alone I won’t have to be loath dreams, because it would be a reality.