When hope is dashed, the song of regret plays even louder. The immiscible tune is what we have now allow into our hearts and minds. For what is the chief end to this if we allow such pollution to invade our hearts? I remembered as a young man my persistent desire and hopes of becoming a doctor being dashed by a cynic who claimed that my hands were too big to perform surgery. When a storm is predicted, you carry on umbrella. Unfortunately, my umbrella was not big enough for the expected storm. I haven't taught much about being a doctor ever since. Only the journey of the unknown and venturing into foreign territories that denied me every access of progression. I realize that regret is a disease that does not need to be entertained but to be learned and then be put off. For the pessimists will relive each moment of it and drag everyone else into that dance.
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