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My life has already ended. I don’t remember it. But i know my soul now is used in stories. My soul is dragged into stories, into characters, i mould like clay into the desired face of the desired persona although it’s their desires. My life in that story is commanded by them and I play and act as them. I wonder when I will have my story. I wonder who I am, what I am, what gender? What job? What’s my journey? My development ?

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