Sometimes, I’ll be sitting around, and something will send me back: a smell, a taste, a sight. I’ll be sitting there, and out of nowhere, there’ll be a dry plastic tube dangling from my chest, an all-too-real phantom of my past. It forks just past my ribs. The little plastic clamps sway on my stomach. As I shift uncomfortably, the scratchy plastic
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We take this all for granted.
We should realize that for all of us its been easy compared to you and we have to stope licking the silver spoon and get out and help this
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