{"text":"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.","author":"Catherine Lacey","tags":["catherine-lacey","disconnected","mental-illness","metaphor","nobody-is-ever-missing","nothing-to-give","removed"],"id":8737,"author_id":"Catherine+Lacey"}