Hunched over in your chair,
Guarding an abscess with apathy,
Your arm is swollen, angry, burning.
A little beast is nestling under your skin.
Sucking joy from your soul.
Your eyes read resignation.
No, dissociation.
Is that what trauma does?
“I need to leave
This place is toxic
My friend gave me powder
I never used powder before”
There was a pause.
My mouth failed me.
I searched for something,
Anything.
Your face reads apathy.
“Do you have anyone for support?”
Your eyes read resignation.
Shifting upward, they meet me.
“Your questions make me depressed.”
Writer-in-Training
Drexel University College of Medicine
Rohit is a second year medical student at Drexel University College of Medicine. He graduated from Georgetown University in 2012, and then went on to teach reading to elementary school students for two years. After teaching, he worked in health policy for a year, and then matriculated to medical school. Currently, he is pursuing an MD/MPH degree and hopes to work in community health and harm reduction. He is passionate about health equity, LGBTQ rights, and racial justice. By far, his greatest skill is reciting lines from Pixar’s Up.