That weekend I was up for the taking, I could have been anyone. anything.
The weekend I saw butterfly man’s face, and wanted to kill him before he killed me, I entered his machine and became many things, and watched how I was circulated beyond my own will. How I had little left but the blind ability to create, even if that was just some throwaway doodles. And I did not know the context or who she was, but I think I recognized her, really.
Update: successful integration of shadow self via second phonecall with butterfly pimp.
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