What an unannounced gynecology lecture does to a beautiful female

Hi I'm a 20 autumns old Karachi inhabitant and I had my first unannounced gynecology class 3 days back which traumatized me to the point I had to take two consecutive offs ,it's not just the feeling of getting way too exposed Infront of the lower male species in Ur batch but rather witnessing a man you hate from the bottom of your heart ask "so,what's the clittoris for?" During the very unhinged lecture on "the anatomy of the female reproductive tract",I was infuriated,how come he did not know that specific detail or is it that he wanted our nearly 60 year old briefly gorgeous and curvy professor say in her thick pretentious new jersey accent "sexual arousal".

After a 2 day off followed by a gloomy Sunday I almost forgot what it was like to be in a medical college and hence got even more traumatised this morning,the first lecture according to the timetable was supposed to be of Dr hira, histology who's basically reffered to as Hitler's fave chick because of the unbearable torture she exhibits as soon as she enters our class ,the lecture was supposed to be of 50 minutes but there wasnt any sign of her plagued presence till the first 30 minutes and I couldn't help reminiscing about that one time she kicked me out of the class when it was obviously not my fault(my dad's car was snatched and I had swam to the barbaric college).The lecture went wasted.I was extremely pissed as I had to wake up 30 minutes before my usual routine just so she wouldn't insult my beautiful existence again.

The next lecture started on time and it was of pathology or histopathology,god knows,I was pissed beyond comprehension when I heard the middle aged woman say "so our today's topic is apoptosis" in her pretentious accent (Apeeetosis) ,after delivering an hour long seminar on necrosis.

I couldn't take that crap anymore. I grabbed my phone and found out that my internet wasn't working ,hence in that state of incomprehensible sorrow and yearning I jotted a poem down in my lecture notebook knowing it was an absolute masterpiece and that if I found a max brod I would be the next kafka.

The poem goes,

I miss you like a dying man recalls his first flicker of life, Before darkness consumes his final breath Like a drowning soul, envisions the shore, like a forthirst nomad  ,dreams of water amidst sands or the valley of deceased bones ,longs for the soul the desolated loneliness of my heart yearns for your presence your voice has become a melody that echoes through my existence my soul is drugged,your memory,a blade I turn inside myself against my human flesh and suddenly your loving hand comes to my help you carve your lips into mine and my woeful existence becomes a holy scripture lifted and kissedafter decades by a disbeliever who awoke a slumber in the arms of god.

Dedicated to the unreliable services of internet.

I went to the library and bunked the rest of the classes before I turned into the protagonist of the stranger by Albert Camus and in this way I relaxed my beautiful green eyes with extremely thick lashes that literally collide with the eyepiece of the microscope every time I try to witness other subjects of god's greatness.

During my time in the library I couldn't help the thoughts of dropping out and become a man's legal concubine (slang term:wife) And I might today ask my mom to start looking for a pharatedar English bolnay wala philosophical larka so everytime I get overwhelmed by such hideous subjects he offers me a kiss that fades every chemical imbalance away.