We are our own enemy.

Sometimes, when I’m running between patients, admitting and treating them, I feel at my best. I’m loud, confident, fast, empathetic, exhausted and enthusiastic all in one breath. I feel sure of who I am. I am an able, intrigued and ambivert individual.

But then, someone older, wiser, boisterous and arrogant will appear. And I begin to feel myself diminishing. I find I have a lump in my throat, I’m flustered with what symptom to present first, I find myself suddenly all right with blending into the shadows. I, whose shadow chases her at times, is now deciding what is the best manner in which I speak but also make no mistakes.

An occasionally uninterested and casual glance will be passed my way because I’ve failed to make an impact as I speak, or so I believe. After this larger than life individual leaves, I’ll find my body unclench and ease down.

Assumptions that were to be made of my incompetence can’t be undone. I’m mediocre and my efforts at being jovial despite the pressures of the day have dwindled. I’m no one, I’m a simpleton like anyone. I know no better, I cannot impress, I have nothing to offer.

The day ends, and I’ve accepted my role as another unforgettable individual.