It feels like it was just yesterday.
They sit clustered around the walls of the room, exchanging nervous laughter and mindless chatter. This interview day is the product of four, sometimes more, years of hard work and study. Countless parties missed in exchange for study time, hours scribbling notes as professors recited equations and molecular formulas and theories of physical laws; all to earn this one day, this one chance. Slick, dark navy suits with crisp white collars, glossy heels, perfectly combed hair. This is the day to determine whether you will be chosen to learn the art of medicine, or not.
It is funny how quickly we forget these moments once we have been granted the open door. We grudgingly show up to lectures and continue to apologetically miss parties for study time, yet we forget how badly we desired that word: acceptance. Thousands of people would die to be in our shoes; we are the chosen ones. The anxious smiles in that small room are an instant reminder: I was here once. I sat in those chairs, the uncertainty of my future and the excitement of possibilities swirling in my stomach as they plucked us off, one by one. But what I remember the most from my interview day was an overwhelming, bursting pride. We were here. We did everything we could, and now it was in their hands. Do what they may. We were here.
Strive for something that scares you. Dig your nails deeper despite your fear, despite the uncertainty. Discover your purpose and place all of your faith in it. Create scary goals, make massive changes,
and plunge forward.