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I am Worth It“What’s wrong, Williams?” I hear my anatomy professor say some ways above my head. I didn’t understand why I came to class today. It’s not worth the effort. The work isn’t worth it. This day wasn’t worth it. My professor isn’t worth it.
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I am not worth it.
My hair was a mess, my clothes were a mess, my face was a mess, and overall, I was a total, utter, and complete mess. I wiped my face with my sleeve and prayed that my dried tear streaks were not evident to the rest of the class as I stood up and silently drudged out of the classroom, slinging on my shoulder bag all the while since it had finished it’s purpose as my highly reluctant pillow and unwilling tissue.
The sun dared to be bright as I trudged through the drying mud in the campus courtyard. I didn’t bother to wipe my shoes as I collapsed on my dorm room floor and limply, like a wet worm, wriggled out of my jacket and scarf.
Still clenched in my hand, a crumbled u