"Maybe you should talk to someone about how upset you are, maybe someone at the disability center," my mother suggests after I walked out of class the second time.
Close to tears, I had called her while she was at work.
The truth is that probably no one gave a shit because no one besides me had ever directly dealt with the stigma of mental illness--or watched how it influenced even the most open minded people.
"Maybe you should tell your professor what happened so you won't lose credit," my father said.
I thought about sending the English instructor an email about discrimination against people with mental illness. So, I did. I wrote about how ignorant my peers were (without saying it directly, of course), and then I intended to shut up about it.
I couldn't miss the third day because we were taking our midterm.
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