The Neurocorp De-stressing Device Entry 1

Well, I'm not really sure how to start this...but...i guess from the beginning? Or should I go "Dear diary..."? Is that too cliche? Anyway...guess I'll start with the basics. My name is Melissa. I'm a pre-med student in university and this is my diary. Yea, I know. What kind of college student has a diary. I'm not a pre-teen girl! Well, the answer to that question is "the kind of college student who has a several anxiety attacks while prepping for mid-terms". The college therapist has suggested sort of "venting" in here would give me an outlet and (along with weekly appointments and other therapy) will help me deal with the stress of student life. So YAY me. 21 years old, a junior in college, and already unable to handle the pressures of school BEFORE I get to med school. It does not bode well for me....Not that I was doing so hot before this, of course. You have one (or 5) panic attacks, and suddenly everyone is worried about your mental health. It's just a really stressful time for every student right now, and trying to maintain my perfect GPA and dealing with all the male students hitting on me...God, here we are, the first entry of the journal and already I'm gossiping about boys. I guess I should elaborate on the "being hit on part", since its clearly bothering me and this journal is about getting that stuff off my chest...Well, for starters, my aforementioned chest. Its large. And, I'm told, perky. I blame genetics. My mother used to be a model, and passed those genes along to myself and my sisters. While i certainly won't complain that I'm not ugly, I'd sort of rather be more...I don't know, plain? It's just hard to be taken seriously. And the comments and stares...for example, in my Biochem lab the other day, I was explaining my group's protein analysis to Professor Okonkwo, and I could SEE him talking to my collarbone. Not even subtle about it. I finally said, "My eyes are up here, sir," which—okay, probably not my best moment, but he actually BLUSHED. A sixty-year-old man with three published textbooks. I wanted to crawl into the centrifuge.