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Doctor’s Visit

By Jessica Rinaldi

 

We’re tired because we’ve been crying.

We’re exhausted because we’ve been sick.

And we’re taking this quiz where we rate out symptoms on a scale of

Rarely to daily.

Which is odd because daily should be rarely but it isn’t.

We are circling those answers mostly,

Trying not to cheat by looking at the bottom where the answers are listed.

The answers to all our problems.

Apparently.

 

Isn’t it funny that this is how it starts?

 

We’re taking quizzes that resemble the shit in those preteen magazines.

“Does he have a crush on you?”

“Which member of One Direction will you marry?”

“Do you have Generalised Anxiety, a Panic Attack Disorder, or Depression?”

None of the above?

 

You take the sheet and count up your answers as if we couldn’t have done that yourself.

This is called a diagnosis.

 

We get medicine we’re not sure we want.

We’re told to take it when we need it

Which is never because we still don’t understand what need is.

 

You leave that office and the pills become another thing in your backpack.

The same as

Sticky notes,

Highlighter,

Ruler.

It becomes a thing that would be great if we remembered,

But we tend to stay with pencil, paper,

eraser.

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