The Ninja of Failure

Those days (you know the ones) in which I am completely incapable of doing anything remotely academic but am obligated to, I generally fall into a morbid depression equalled only by Vincent van Gogh moments before he cut off his own ear. I sit in front of my laptop in a darkened room, hood up, contemplating the vast and insurmountable essay I must write (it's always essays) and considering if I would look good with one ear. Sometimes I even get as far as going to the kitchen for a knife. In these dark hours, my nemeses reveal themselves. Lurking outside my windows, hiding in my closet, living on my roof and falling down my chimney.

The ninjas of failure.

Who are the ninjas of failure? They are the ones who wait, ever so patiently, for the point where I apply for medical school and am rejected.

I know, if that day ever comes, it will be the day I die. I'll open the letter, and before I can even finish reading the first line, they attack. Maybe it will be an arrow to the face, maybe a sword to the gut, but I know that I will lie on the ground, wallowing in a pool of my own blood and tears thinking "if only I had been accepted...I could save myself...". Or maybe one of them will solemnly hand me a sword, and expect me to honour kill myself. I'd probably just cut off my ear and then be killed for my impertinence. There could be no open casket, unless someone buys a fake ear.

In the interest of simplicity, here is a flowchart of how this all happens:

Have trouble with one assignment -> don't do well in class -> all marks inexplicably drop -> apply to med school -> epic rejection -> death

Or possibly

Write essay -> fail -> death

Or

Write essay -> death

Or

Death -> more death -> Cremated because I cut my ear off

This is why I am so afraid of failure. Failure results in death. No exceptions.

Maybe I'll just be accepted, then I don't have to fight any ninjas...

The ninjas of success?

Ps. Yes, I dropped the "In Which...". I can't produce pithy titles like that any more.