It was October 20, 2018. He knew his choices, none of the outlooks were quite suitable. He strolled through the bright corridors of innovation and change, surveying his surroundings. His mom was with him, a strict but gentle figure who reprimanded every toe out of line. High school openings, inviting many educated enriched youth to a contrasting society. A whole new world from public enlightenment institutions, limitless differences. He knew his obligations, but still refused to accept the fact. There was a towering shadow and he was the light, racing away but not succeeding. It was September 15, 2030. A young adult now, going over notes and review sheets under enormous pressure. His eyelids started to droop, his posture slackened to a slouch, hands on his head, pinching himself to stay awake. The Mcat in a few days, spending tireless hours of study and work. Crouched over his antique wooden desk, listening to his roommate snore, the creaks and cracks, the wind howling in the night. His clock read 3:24 am. He turned his swivel chair around and looked enviously at his bed. Studying was a thin line of rope, sleep were scissors. Next to his bed, a nightstand containing a picture with his family as a kid. He picked it up and thought back to the days of sippy cups, Elmo, time, sleep, and soccer. The cries of kids, playgrounds, naps, and most of all, no doubts or worries about the impending future. Life was simple back then. His conscience told him he needed to do this, his will told him he didn’t. It had been 12 years, and he still didn’t want to accept the lingering fact. The nagging feeling never backed down, and it had gotten worse. In his mind he pictured himself as a young and feeble child, the mirror told him a grown college student. He knew it  was going to get harder, much harder and worse than ever. And he wasn’t sure he was ready for it.