I believe so I am and the struggles that come along with this aren't conventionally stern when you have to attend an induction ceremony.
10% luck and a Freaking 90% of hard work or maybe some brains is what it takes to be A licensed Clinical Psychologist.
Roughly 8 years of obedience to books and internally battling between watching Apocalypse Now or studying.
Thank G for the scholarship programs.
I say there is Luck because I clearly remember throwing dice of the last 10 questions of the Exam.
Our token is somewhat I find delicate, far too trivial for all the hard work to be and what to be done.
Started with almost 200 or more classmates then ending up with 47 holding this cup with me and out of that number, only 9 of us were lucky enough to be part of a program to which we individually dispensed on selected hospitals.
An appointment rather than an opportunity sort to say.
Some of these mental health professionals will either work for universities, wellness centers, private practices, or even schools, caring for the well-being of others based on knowledge and skills acquired in pursuit of this degree.
I should have been a psychometrician.
Research suits me.
Something I'm proud of myself but no one to share in this jungle.
They said a great thing you can leave your child behind is a Sibling.
I wish I did have then a wish came true.
My mom got knocked up but wasn't capable to do so again for some reasons she wouldn't tell.
She's far from me too far for this busy life living on our farm with cows and chickens to talk to and a few good folks now and then.
She is proud and would be having this huge smile ear to ear even though she wished id take up animal husbandry to which I thought about when I was in grade school a cool profession.
Yeah right, sticking your hand on a cow's butt is warmer rather than cool.
The clinking of the glass signifies my dwindling and my time to bust out of here.
It's done and I don't want to stay further, trying to make a decent conversation with persons who can read your body language.
What would be better than taking a 9-hour sleep as a beauty regimen?
I gather my belongings consisting of my most expensive Gucci bag I bought on Black Friday madness to which I will never do so again.
I never experienced such violence for a pair of Gucci boots at a discount. The atrocious acts of some for the things they value.
This special haversack is only for emergency scenarios like weddings, funerals, and ceremonies like this, and before I forgot my lovely mug to be put on the Shelf along with the smudge accolades I've acquired.
Here I am, a rural girl trying to make an Urban flight of fancy.
Fancy night indeed.
I know some of them but I don't want to mingle.
my ambivert mind keeps me at the bay so I guess I'm taking my leave.
I said my goodbyes to my seniors with whom I share the table while making up some excuses to appease my stunt.
I stand up and drink the last straw of the mimosa and silently waltzing my x-line midi dress.
Grateful enough no one bothers me so I directly went through the nearest exit just in time I saw something unearthly looking coming my way.
For a moment I knew he looks straight in my eyes then again who wouldn't.
It could be my asset and my liability, a rare set of indigo eyes when bought in the right amount of light would be is mistaken to be amethyst.
He gave a small smile and paused before the door as he gently reached my nape then forcefully draw me back in so I could face him.
He stared at my face with a snake grip still on me. I could see him debating with himself at what he did to me as though searching the deepest ocean.
Suddenly his lips are on my neck, I could feel his breathing hovering behind my left ear lobe out of nothing he bit me so hard as a vampire would I bit my lower lip not to curse this ding bag.
He wasn't letting go and I could feel my neck in pain with his bite.
My thinking became clear that this guy no matter how handsome is a piece of the shit son of a frog who has the money to buy anything or anyone he likes if he can't do this in a public place with no fear of anyone or authority.
He could be powerful, he could be a vampire but I won't stay to know.
My fight or flight kicks in with disgust as I push my body with all my force from him creating just enough distance then release the breath I've been hiding.
I wanted to yell at his action or thrash my bag at his handsome face but I remember this isn't the place to make a scene.
the son of a gun was waiting to see what my reaction would be but I compose myself.
So I gave him a death glare as though his Donald Trump while touching my swollen neck and walk away as fast as I can where my heels can take me to a taxi.
I saw him smirk before leaving, I won't give him the joy to see me go uncivilized.
Out of the stillness, I hear him laughing like Light Yagami at my state as I close the door of the cab and feeling better to be far from that maniac.