I never expected my classmates to care about my welfare. After all, it is sort of a chore. We’re there to make the grade, graduate, and attain our degree. I never anticipated the cognizance I’ve received.
Wednesday; I’m running late for class. I stuff my stethoscope and blood pressure cuff in my bag, along with my ten pound textbooks and head out the door. Only to realize that I have no ride. I’m freezing, and carrying an extra 50 pounds due to the medical equipment in each of my duffel bags. I have a choice; I can either call it quits and go back inside or I can risk hypothermia (ok, I’m exaggerating here) and join the track team; with any luck...making it to class.
I get to class, all the pigment drained from my face and dead beat...expecting to be greeted with unwelcoming eyes and a stern lecture about the importance of getting to class on time, not knowing what I had just went through. Instead, I was greeted by a group of concerned classmates.
“I called you!”, “I texted you!”, “What happened to you? We were all worried!”
I realized I had not checked my phone once today. Turning my phone on to roughly twenty text messages from my classmates, I choke back tears.
I haven’t received a text message, a call, or a fucking notification from my supposed friends in months. Everything sits on read, and that’s if they bother to read it at all. I want to smash my head into the table until one or the other breaks.
I don’t deserve these people.











