Every few minutes or so I would remember the look from the man who had wanted fifty cents, and I'd look at that framed memory hanging in myself and it meant I was here, back in this sick city, but in other ways I was not here at all and anyone who looked closely could see that I had nothing to give, that I was a junk drawer, a collection of things that may or may not have had a use.
Catherine Lacey, Nobody Is Ever Missing
catherine-lacey, disconnected, mental-illness, metaphor, nobody-is-ever-missing, nothing-to-give, removed