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My anti-depressants make me crave macaroni salad. New York Style macaroni salad, to be exact. Everyday at lunch I have one serving from the supermarket deli. Two servings and I would have leftovers. Flashes come to me as I eat. A 10 year old holding a razor to his left wrist. A 15 year old with a broken heart. A 20 year old alone in the woods. A 25 year old finding contentment in a plastic container Of macaroni salad. This is how the healing takes place: Backwards and in increments of 5. Sometimes when I eat, I see a 30 year old whose prescription has run out; Without an appetite; A razor in his hand instead of a fork.
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