Sometimes medical school gets in the way of my real life.
It imposes itself in all sorts of obtrusive, inconvenient ways. It’s clingy. Like a bad boyfriend.
Without even offering up any of the perks of having a bad boyfriend. Like having someone to sleep next to at night. I guess I could curl up next to my anatomy textbook. But I’ve been using it as a platform on which to roll out my calves every night. (And truly, that’s the most useful it’s been since I’ve obtained it. Money well spent, I suppose?) And as such, it causes me so much pain that I don’t really think it’s “imaginary boyfriend material”. You know?











