All language subtitles for Prologue

My body's here but my mind is out there, it's somewhere racing.

I spend a lot of time trying to get to this time and place.

Today is basically the biggest day of my life.

I get to help in saving this guy.

He suffers from some nearly fatal form of pericardial heart disease.

And we're supposed to operate, but I can't concentrate.

I only contemplate.

Damn, is this what I want?

Is this right?

What the hell am I doing with my life?

I studied cardiology but I don't know the matters of the heart.

Placed at a painstaking pace from the start.

And now I'm in doubt 'bout the route I take.

What does my heart say?

In my heart, there's a melody but I can't hear it clearly.

It appears to steer me when times are severe like here.

There's something truly daunting and haunting about wanting to be a doctor.

Guarding someone's life in your hands.

The life of another man.

To be literally the last stand between this man and God's plan.

His heartbeat fleets and that's when the pressure kicks.

My gut becomes sick.

This moment, this tick, makes me wish and fantasize myself in another life.

What if I chase the dreams that I've wanted this whole time?

My pop says this job is a long-term provider.

And I like my job, but I wanted to be a songwriter.

Music.

I love music.

I love the many effects it has depending on how you choose to use it.

It could be amusing or therapeutic.

It's oozing with treasures to be discovered.

It's a pleasure for me.

I love it.

Check this out.

This is a regression line of every hit song since 79.

And all day long, this is on my mind.

There's so much information.

From tempo to key changes, chord progressions.

So many lessons.

For example, did you know that if you take the key of a song up,

everything gets more exciting?

The song gets more enticing.

Feels like it's rising.

And if you take it back down.

I don't really know what that does yet.

Some people get upset.

Anyways, there's nothing that can contest.

With the dopamine that comes over me when I hear a dope rhyme scheme.

And it's dope, I mean Every line seems to convey a sacred promise

To the next, it's the best.

Every day at any moment, I'm hit with a wave of serotonin.

Flow thicker than the pages that I know here.

So here's a...

This job sucks.

I hate this job.

I really freaking hate this job.

And there's no one on the mother-loving face of the planet to make me say thanks for this job.

Only reason I have this job.

Father told me to get this job.

Demanded I land a solitarian life

in med school To be granted monetary advancements

I don't think it's all about the money.

And it's kind of funny.

I think everybody's got a hobby that they love.

And when I think about it Every time I step up in the operatin'

All I really want to do is sing or write songs.

Yes, I'm depressed.

I confess.

Incessantly pressed for success

But success should be self-defined.

So where do I draw the line?

Imagine having the mental capacity only to question the lessons you've learned.

If you're not messing your lessons You're lessening how much you sleep when you burn

Look how the tables have turned.

This only leads to stress.

You need to get your ass to class and pass the test.

Yes, go be the best of the best

Do not succumb to the stress

You must impress.

Teach yourself how to finesse.

Learn to survive without rest unless

You're going to manage your time But all I can think of are lyrics and rhymes

How do I deal with the pressure

How do I deal with the pressure