I brought box home from the J. M. Barrie's

I brought box home from the J. M. Barrie's estate action. It was ornately filigreed with nautical motifs. Upon opening, I discovered it contained the shadow of a small boy.

The shadow jumped out of the box and darted around the room. I shined the light on the window and door so it couldn't go near them. It looked like the shadow of Peter Pan so

I tried to catch it. Peter never could keep his shadow in place, and I could always use another one. I knew I had a safety pin somewhere in my

shirt, but I didn't seem to be able to find it. I just grabbed Peter's shadow by the hand and told it that if it ever left, I'd rip its

tits off. Fucking shadows. One time I thought I saw this shadow but it was really a hair attached to the lip of this older woman going out with a much younger guy. Fucking shadows.

The LSD was starting to take hold, and my thoughts and actions seemed disconnected. I was stumbling angrily through the streets, pushing bystanders aside and wishing I wasn't a

n implant carrier. Sure I wasn't technically on acid, but the effects of my self hacking attempt were just the same, the buildings quivered like jello and

I kept saying the word hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia over and over again. Oh, my self mutilation would leave scars alright, but nothing compared to the scars on my heart.

Those and my hydroencephaly, tinnitis, severe asthma, and myopia were all I had left in the world. Well, my hypochondria as well, but I don't like to talk about that. Unless

I get overly stressed trying to keep track of all my different doctor's appointments. I then go to see my shrink Dr High-Charges who helps me deal with the stress.