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A day in the
life of a Person with DID
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day in the life of...
Introduction
I am We. In diagnostic terminology, this phenomena is called
“Dissociative Identity Disorder” (DID), formerly recognized as
Multiple Personality Disorder. DID is the most extreme
manifestation of the disorders in the dissociative spectrum.
Dissociative Identity Disorder is caused by prolonged,
relentless, and repetitive exposure to trauma. Trauma may be
defined as any situation where an individual feels incredibly
threatened, incapable of finding safety, or fearing for their
life. Trauma may present itself in many situations: childhood
physical, sexual, emotional, ritual, or spiritual abuse,
neglect, consistent ridicule... Repetitive operations or
extensive hospital testing in childhood is also known to cause
DID. (I should mention, also - trauma is not a necessary
component to developing DID. DID differs for each individual but
for most it is a creative survival mechanism and a way to cope
with traumatic situations beyond one’s normal limits.)
Symptoms of DID include an incapability of remembering personal
information, time loss, amnesia, out of body experiences, body
memories, flashbacks, nightmares, hearing voices communicating
within your head that do not sound like your own, pressure
headaches (the ones that feel like your skull is being pushed
from the inside out, like a balloon with too much air), and
derealization.
DID is commonly formed in early childhood; according to
research, the process of dissociation usually begins before the
age of five. For us, dissociation was our ability to “go away”
when things became too much. Kitty, who is a five year old girl
Inside, says, “It’s like getting lost in your headspace.” An
example of less-severe dissociation is driving in the car and
suddenly realizing that time has passed and you can not remember
what took place, or how you got to the place you are at.
Daydreaming, and “getting lost” in an activity are also
manifestations of dissociation.
DID is a severe form of dissociation where there are many splits
in an individual’s memories, thought processes, emotions, and
sense of self (identity). The Child who was born into our
flesh-body - the one we call Kamavirya, the First Born, or the
Self of Origin - used dissociation to escape the abuse, neglect,
fear, and pain he felt. There was no trust, no security, no
love, no tangible place to hide, no one to turn to, no one to
protect him, and no place safe. Day after day, Kama was
brutalized, tortured, experimented on, sexually abused,
neglected, starved, punished by those who were supposed to care
for him, so Kama left the body and hid inside the mind. The
Child, the Self of Origin born into this body has become many
Spirits who share this body to this day. We are not crazy, nor
devils. We are survivors of abuse. We are individuals.
The psychologists refer to the people who share the body as
“Alters”, which is derived from the word “Alternatives”. We
prefer to use the term Others, because that is what we are. We
are Other selves, each unique with our own sets of emotions,
nationalities, memories, behaviors, mannerisms, voices, likes,
dislikes, ages, histories, and perceptions of the world. Medical
and psychological conditions also vary between the Others, for
example, when Nadia is using the body, she can not consume dairy
because she is severely lactose intolerant, yet if she is not
near the surface (the surface being the outside world), we can
have dairy products without an allergic reaction. Other examples
include Ella who suffers from Fibromyalgia, Kati who is
diabetic, Krissy who is legally blind, Feral who is mute… Skel
and Alex have anorexia nervosa. Glutton is a compulsive
overeater. Jade has OCD and agoraphobia. Nearly all of us have
PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).
The Others form what we call a “System”. In our System, we have
children as young as two, teens, and adults aged (at oldest)
fifty-seven years. We are Polyfragmented, which means over 100
individuals share this body. Some of the individuals Inside are
nonhuman - taking the forms of mythical creatures (specifically
a Fey, a fairy, named Avoliza), animals (we have a lion named
Sangasu, a wolf named Wolf, a dog named Sobaka), a shadow (named
Empty), or inanimate objects like Dolly (who is a doll) or Rags
(who is a puppet).
We have seven Systems inside. Each System has its own set of
Others, who have their own lives and responsibilities and
histories. Every System is separated by“amnesic walls”. The
Systems have a hierarchy. The larger the number, the stronger
the System, meaning: the seventh System holds the most power in
the body, and this system is very deeply barricaded inside,
working on a mainly subconscious level. I am part of the System
called the Masks. We are the lowest-level system in the
hierarchy. The Masks are the Others who can use the body
regularly, because we have tasks to perform, or because we are a
safe individual to occupy the body. Above us is the Tribe, or
the Exiled. Followed by, in sequential order to most powerful,
the Pride, the Jewels, the Keys or the Programming, the SCBID
(System Control Board and Internal Database), and finally, the
Ascended Masters.
The Systems live in a place inside our mind that we call the
Inside World, or simply ‘Inside’. It is our world, and it feels
more real to us than the outside reality that we participate in.
Inside, we live in a big brick house on a hill. Anyone from our
system who wants a room within the main house may have one.
Others may choose to live elsewhere. There are valleys with
flowers, dense forests with tree houses, streams, caves,
playgrounds, and an ocean beyond the mountains with a beautiful
marina… It is our safe place, or mostly safe, because there are
some negative places Inside too (such as the Graves or the
Underworld).
Now that I have presented you with a preface of DID and what it
entails, I will give you an account of our daily life.
This is written in my perspective - and mine alone. “Me”, in
this instance, being Cleo. I am thirteen and I hate living in a
stupid boy’s body. Our body is twenty years old.
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Without further
adieu, here is a Day in the Life of Occupying a Body that has D.I.D. . .
. . . . .
I wake up in a cold sweat, my head spinning. I pulled the short-straw
last night and had to sleep in the body, again. I miss sleeping in my
room Inside. The body feels so heavy and pressed down by gravity, a
sensation I’ve forgotten over the years while living inside a mind. I
feel uncomfortable in this flesh and I feel like an imposter.
The nightmares persist. These nightmares show me the things my internal
family has suffered. Usually, the nightmares are in “replay” format,
where I relive the scenario wholly unaware of it as a dream. Sometimes,
the nightmares are slide-shows of pictures. These pictures are mental
snapshots of trauma taking place. I have a lazy subconscious mind,
apparently. It prefers to regurgitate memories and present them as
nightmares instead of creating actual dreams. I have never dreamt
anything beyond the nightmares of our past. The images of last nights
horrors still situate themselves in my mind. I sigh, and open my eyes, a
chorus of “Hello” and “Good Morning, Cleo” echoing Inside.
“Mornin’”, I mumble to the folks in the body with me.
I drag myself out of bed listening to the internal conversations. “Can
we go to the zoo today pretty, pretty please?” Kitty begs, a slight lisp
resonating on her ‘r’ and ‘s’. “I wanna see the lions.” There is a
cacophony in agreement.
Zombie squeals, “Yes! We can see monkeys!” I look Inside. He’s standing
on the Porch, hopping from one leg to the other.
Mara peaks her head out of the doorway, and looks up at Duchess. “Can we
go’s, mama? You let us go see animals? I wan’ see big elephant.”
“No, sweeties,” coos Duchess in her sing-song British voice, “We have
school today, my little ones.” The three children pout, and I shake my
head walking to the restroom. I hear Duchess say, “I promise, my small
ones, that we will take you this weekend. We will have a nice day.”
There are excited whoops and laughter. Jade steps forward.
“Go ahead, wash the hands,” I tell her, because this is the morning
ritual. It doesn’t take long to learn people’s habits when you share a
body with them. I let her come out with me. As she controls the hands
and fumbles around with the faucet and soap, I look at our reflection.
Every time, doing so fills me with unease. I expect to see me in
the mirror - a thirteen year old gangly girl with long, curly blonde
hair and forest-green eyes - but instead I see a round-faced Japanese
boy, dark eyes, pale skin staring back. Through the dark eyes, I can see
my own mystification. The expression of my eyes is the only hint of me a
stranger could see. They don’t match the face, and the awkwardness of
inhabiting a bizarre body rots in my chest like a tumor. Feeling like a
stranger, I can never seem to recognize in our reflection that this is
me and this is what the world sees us as.
Niko starts whining and whimpering. He’s scared of bathrooms, ever since
the Father punished him in the tub. He starts to cry, and almost
instantly, the all too vivid scene from Niko’s memory is shared with me.
A flashback. It comes in a succession of mental images I see in my
mind’s eye. The Outside reality disappears and I am behind Niko’s eyes.
I see the Father’s hands and I feel the pressure pushing me to the base
of the tub. Panic swells along with the need for oxygen. I am holding my
breath.
I dig my toes into the carpet. I wriggle them against its fibers and
remind myself I am not with Father now. I am alone in our house. Nobody
is giving me drowning punishment. When the pictures fade, the choking
sensation and pain around my neck persists. "Shh, Niko" I speak slowly,
carefully. "Nobody is gonna hurt you today, Niko." But I can feel myself
being choked by hand’s in a memory, a memory which took place twelve
years ago. This pain lingers. I feel like I can not breathe; Jade, also
feeling this sensation, abandons her
washing/brushing/cleaning/disinfecting ritual and retreats inside.
My anxiety soars, and I feel off balance - the way I always do when my
three worlds collide. My worlds are The Present, The Past, and The
Inside. It is hard to stay grounded in the now, whilst being blinded by
images from the past. ‘First body memory of the day’, I think, ‘probably
about a million more to go’. I curse with the fluency of a sailor
towards PTSD and the scummy people who caused us to be this screwed up.
I shuffle towards the closet. Suddenly, there is a rush of input from
the Insiders. Skel mutters, “If you have the audacity to make me suffer
through another day of girlish attire, I will comply silently no longer.
You know how bitter I can be. I urge you to heed my warning.”
Stopit nods, “Yeah, the girls get to choose our clothes too much. So’s
it has gotta be our turn, Cleo. Lemme pick today.” Before I can say no,
he’s grabbed his favorite shirt - a black long sleeved T with an
airplane on it. He’s smiling triumphantly, the way he does when he
finishes his model Schooner boats, or when he gets his way. I know I
wont get my way, so I begrudgingly take my turn at being patient. Being
Multiple is an endless cycle of democracy, sharing, and self-sacrificing
what you want to do for what someone else inside wants to do. Any major
decisions are voted on, although it is not always effective.
Our next democratic scenario begins as we enter the kitchen. Our stomach
growls, and Alex threatens, “You better not eat, Cleo. Do not even think
about it.”
“I am hungry,” I shoot back angrily. His anorexia bothers me, plus I
also loathe being controlled. I am a lioness. I am strong. I am wicked.
With a smile, I envision how aggravated he would be if I treated myself
to a nice big burger, fries, and milkshake later in the day. I’ll
spite you, Alex.
He replies, “Sin is to be punished.” My smile fades. He’ll cut us. That
is what he is hinting at. He will punish the Body for taking in food. He
is trying to keep us “safe”, by following the archaic rules the Father
instilled in us.
Skel agrees, validating my thoughts with the words, “Well, it was damn
easier to loathe food, than want it when it wasn’t there, kiddo. Now it
is a habit, so deal.”
Frustrated, I bark back and forth with Alex about what I would be
permitted to eat this morning, granted Alex can exercise after college.
He says, “Six almonds and an orange.” Ugh!!! He’s an anorexic raw vegan,
and I’m an ice-cream and sweets and starch addict, so I feel resentful
towards the scanty, unappealing meal before me.
As I bring the first bite to my lips, I hear a scream of childish
desperation. It is followed by a child’s chanting, “No, no, no, no, no,
no, no, no, no” in desperate, choking sobs.
“What?” I inquire.
The child, Dray, replies somberly in gasps, “You no put ’dat in mouth.
No put nuffin in mouth please. Hurts, it hurts.”
I look at my plate sadly, knowing he must be suffering, remembering the
awful things done to him. A familiar taste and sensation fills my mouth
and throat. I feel my stomach lurch and I start counting-off numbers in
my head. Calm down, Cleo. 1... 2... 3... 4... Registering this
sensation, I hear the meek voice of Slave whisper, “Please do not cough.
You know they get mad when we cough.” Her eyes are brimming with fear.
She doesn’t know the men are gone now.
Time is different in here. When you live in a world Inside - you become
distant from solar time. Time Inside is circular. It is commonplace for
the Others to be unaware that we have been free from abuse for almost
three years. Inside, we do not age. We forget that the world ages around
us.
I give up hope of breakfast and settle on water instead, trying to
ignore the growling beast below my ribcage that demands nourishment.
Unfortunately, there are other things I have to listen to than my tummy.
There are a few hours before school, and we begin our multitasking. I
situate myself down on the couch and flip on the TV, while the children
grapple with play-dough on the coffee table. We are very capable at
multitasking. Simultaneously, Leon is inside finishing the essay due for
next weeks Psychology class. Meanwhile, Pax is reviewing his notes for
today’s Astrology exam. School is a team effort, like everything else.
When it is time to go, I look for the keys. Not again! Someone hid them
during the night. Accusations bounce around Inside until Eyes, our
Internal Administrator, commands us to be quiet. His emotionless
demeanor and robotic status makes him the epicenter of Logistics. His
word is our Law, not that I am happy about it.
Before he can begin his interrogation, Mina giggles in her menacing way
and states, “Fancy a little trip to icebox?” She is always complicating
things, hiding things, breaking rules, saying rude things… She is a
trouble maker. But I get her. She wants to keep everyone away from us.
If we have no one, then no one can hurt us. She tries her hardest to
keep us cooped and caged in the house, where she considers us safe.
Still, I can’t help being agitated. I call her a few names, and she
harasses me back. Things inside are not always so friendly.
I hop in the car, excitement starting to fill me. I love driving. It
makes me feel like a cool, responsible adult. Even though I am thirteen,
I was the one who took driving lessons, and passed the drivers test.
Nobody Outside knew it was me, or that I was there. We are good at being
unseen and appearing normal. If you met us, unless we told you we were
in here, you would not know. Multiplicity is best kept a secret.
I turn the key in the ignition and drive to class. The entire trip,
bantering is circling endlessly in our head. I focus on the road, trying
to ignore the voices. I wish there could be internal silence, for once.
As I pull into the parking lot and shrug the backpack over my shoulders,
a sharp pain erupts from my side. A quick investigation reveals a
checkerboard of incisions. I feel dizzy looking at them. Discovering
cuts, burns, and assortments of other self-inflicted wounds happens
regularly enough, but nonetheless it is a disconcerting event.
Andie whispers, “I stop hide. No more. I got pictures in me head. I was
bad boy. I had get the bad out of me. I had bleed the evil out of me
like Master told me to do.”
With the mention of our father, or sperm donor rather, (‘Father’ implies
some sort of appropriate emotional connection) emotions from the Other’s
start swirling inside like a tornado. Mara’s love for her daddy, her
loyalty, her want to be his princess… Slave’s sadness at losing her
Master and her newfound never-ending indecision of having no one to
obey… Stopit’s anger towards him… Kitty’s fear…. Mina’s murderous rage…
My hatred…. Zombie’s numbness… Lu’s shame… Shasta’s guilt… Dolly’s
happiness from getting attention… Feral’s loneliness… Niko’s pain… It
spins, and a headache brews, like always when we feel too much. I swear,
there is just too much energy in this body for one body to handle.
The throbbing of the cuts continues until Zombie steps to the front. He
is disconnected from nerves and it is impossible for him to register
pain. I let the waves of numbness assuage my aches. I take a few deep
breaths trying to calm, collect and steady myself for the day. School
trips us up. It has so many triggering factors. School causes our PTSD
to go haywire. Flashbacks ensue when we come in contact with triggering
stimuli. Students or teachers who resemble abusers, any mention of
sexual activity, men in general, crowds, jeeps, minivans, flashing
lights, cigarettes/smoke, phones, chains, dogs/leashes, certain styles
of music, construction noises, tire screeches, silverware (especially
knives), food, cologne/perfume, metal tables, bathrooms, certain words,
certain colors (the list goes on) will cause retribution: flashbacks,
body memories, panic attacks.
I keep myself as grounded as possible, walking through the crowds.
Briefly, I allow myself to feel forbidden anger towards our abusers. I
curse the existence of those who crushed our sense of security, our
trust, our innocence. They robbed us of a normal childhood. Agrees
resound, Lu summing it all up with, “Yup, yup, yesiree. Nasty buggers
messed us real good. When little lassies were first kissing tikes behind
them schoolyard bushes, we been laying with men for years.” Now is not
the time to think of this, I plead, regretting my indulgence of anger.
Anger opens Pandora’s Box.
I force my thoughts back on lessons. Eyes puts forth the Veil. The Veil
is a wall between Inside and Outside. It is a mechanism that disconnects
the body’s occupant from the Inside world. I focus easier now, but it is
a conscious effort. Suffice to say, by the time we get home, I am
exasperated from focusing on coursework while trying distract myself
from PTSD, and the cranial colony at large.
We return home and I immediately take refuge in the closet: my small,
safe sanctuary. I sit, counting my breaths, talking back and forth with
my family.
When my anxiety dissipates, and the flashbacks fade, we take turns doing
using the body. Maybe Stopit works on his model plane, Mara makes
play-dough animals, Katie draws a picture, Duchess tries a new recipe,
Jade does her daily cleaning, or Leon does coursework… We mitigate
between responsibilities and fun activities for the remainder of the
night until the Littles settle down in their Inside beds, and I pull the
covers around the Body and close its eyes, aware that another nightmare
will be tormenting me soon. Even so, I have faith. We lived through the
worst. We survived. Now, we can heal, and begin our lives anew each day.
And so I do.
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Hi. I m calld kity. I m
5 n 6 yeers old. I cant spel good. I jus rite stuf how it sowns in my
hed. Hope u can unnerstand me. If not I can get sumbody oldr to rite it
for me, kay???
We lissend inside wen
Cleo was riting her story. We thot we wud rite sum to. If u want u can
put my stuf on ur page to but its ’kay if u do not wanna. I kno I m
little n not very smart so mayb this isn’t gud for ur site. We thot we
cud rite ‘bout wat its like inside for us. Like wen we r not Out in the
body like I am now wen I rite this on the komputer.
I liv inside in a big
house. It has wite briks n a blak roof. It looks vera old like viktorian.
It has towrs n stuf up top n that makes it look like a castl. Below its
windows it has flowr boxs. Thoze flowrs r turqoiz daizys. Thoze don’t
hapin in reel life Outsid but I wish it did becuz theyr jus so pretty.
We like them becuz theyr brite culers. Turqoiz is a safe culer. Ther r
culers that r not safe. Red is not a safe culer n ther is not lots of
red insid. By the house thers a big tree. It has wite bark. Its leevs
always r lotsa culers like its autum. The tree has riting all over it.
My room inside is
purpul. The ceeling has clouds on it in 1 half n stars on the other. We
eech get to make our rooms look like how we want them to. I hav frends
inside. Mara is my best frend. We r a big famly n even tho we fite
sumtimes we love eechothr lots. I reely love the feelds insid coz ther r
flowrs n animols. Ther r horses wit long wite hair n they r very prety.
They r nise horses n they let us kids ride round on them. We hav a
playroom to. It has lots of toys. Ther r play kichins n barbis n dollys
n stuffies. The boys hav cars n planes n robots n leggos n briges n
trains n solders n firetruks. We also hav a craft room. Ther r lots of
playdow ther n crayons n culering books n pikshur books n pop out books
n kits to mak cool stuf n thers even a sewing mashine that Duchess uzes
sumtims to make us toys. We hav a playground to wit swings n a sandbox n
a seesaw n a carasel.
The bigs inside hav
places they like to go to. There is a muzik room n a meditayshon hut.
We like it inside mor
than outside. I don’t like goin outside in the Body coz the bodys to big
for me. It has big feet n its hard to walk round in theze big feets. I
hav little feet becuz I m 5 n 6. I get scard becuz it is to big for me n
I bump into things cuz I forgets that body is not litl like I m.
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I am called Spooky.
I am twelve years old, and I live inside this body.
Obviously, I guess, or I wouldn’t be writing.
Inside is a lovely place.
I came into existence when the body was seven.
I have always been twelve and I always will be twelve.
Twelve is a good age, you see, because I am not too big, but I am not
too young either.
I like being in this body.
Some people do not like it.
Some of the guys think our body is too little and girly looking.
The girls like that part, you know?
So it bugs the guys, but I am a guy, and it does not bother me.
I think it is fine.
The only thing I do not like is that the body is very sick a lot.
That is no fun.
I wanted to say some stuff about DID, if that’s okay.
We are not crazy.
We saw a doctor, and she said we were crazy.
She said we were schizophrenic, and she put us on Clozapine.
That is the strongest medicine for it that you can take.
She said we had severe psychosis and a definite break from reality, as
she refused to believe DID exists.
This is not true, though.
I wanted to talk about what DID is not.
We know what reality is, even if all the people Inside do not
participate in it all the time.
That is not logical, you know?
Yes, lots of us live Inside, and many may never enter the body-space
again, but that doesn’t mean we are dysfunctional.
Cleo goes to school, and so does Leon.
Leon’s really smart, and he is twelve like me, but he is a lot smarter.
He’s the smartest of everyone Inside.
He takes tests for us, because he has a photographic memory.
His IQ is really high. I wish mine was.
We hold down two jobs, and have good relationships with our coworkers -
and very, very few people are aware of our Multiplicity.
Oh, I got side-tracked. Woops.
Anyway, a person with DID isn’t evil, or crazy, or possessed.
It is not something that makes people with it into a monster.
But it takes lots of monsters to make a kid have DID.
We knew lots of monsters.
We are normal people, we just share a body.
It may seem weird, but it is how we have always been.
To us, it seems awful weird to not be this way.
We can watch Outside, when we are inside.
It’s neat-o.
There is a Lighthouse, and if we sit there, and look out, we can see the
world through the body’s eyes see.
We watch a lot, and most of the time, we are listening even though
people do not know it.
When our Mama was told we have DID, she said we were devils.
She had a priest come, and he called us devils.
Little Kitty talked to the Priest, and he looked at her and he said
really rough “You will not fool me, demon. I see through the
child-guise.”
Kitty cried for days and days, after that.
I can not speak for every System, but I know that in Ours, even the ones
who are bad have good, deep inside them.
For example, we have a being Inside named Creature.
He looks like a lion-wolf-person.
The Father used to hurt animals.
He used to make us watch him, and then he started trying to make us help
when the body was really little.
No more than three, when that started.
Nobody wanted to hurt animals, so we wouldn’t, but that made Papa mad.
He’d hurt them real bad like he hurt us, and he wed them and did love to
them like us, and we felt so bad and we couldn’t hurt them but he‘d make
us watch and he‘d say, “If only you listened, I wouldn‘t have to keep
hurting these. Just finish off yours, and these ones could live.”
He’d do something really bad next.
I wont say it here, it’s too yucky.
But eventually, it made Creature come. Creature was somebody who could
do the bad things Papa wanted so that we would not get hurt.
After that, Creature was bad for years and years, but now he is healing
and he is nicer and he doesn’t do bad things anymore.
Even the worst, scariest, meanest Others have good.
If anyone reading this ever meets a Multiple, know they need love,
support, friendship and understanding.
And remember, the scariest, the most extreme of the Others often are the
ones who need love the most.
We are not bad people.
We feel like we are because people don’t believe in us, and that hurts.
We are here, you know?
Maybe you can’t see us, but we are here.
We do not want to harm anybody.
We try really, really, really, really, really, really, really hard to be
good.
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hi u can call me
triplesix. im nine years old. i live in a cave inside an not in the
house.
i like the house an i watch it sumtimes
but i can not stay there too long or my evil will pollute it an make it
bad.
mama says i am evil. mama says i am dirty and that god
doesnt love me. mama says daddy told her i was satan's baby.
i heard sombody say once that god loves everybody but i
think that can not be true because he certainly dont love me.
when u love sombody u dont just sit around an watch them
get hurt.
unless they are bad or evil an deserve the hurting. thats
why i kno i am full of bad in me.
god always let people hurt me lots an
there is still much pain in my heart.
i do not want to be a devil child. i want
to be a good girl.
maybe when god thinks i have suffered
enuf he will let me be a nice girl instead.
nice girls are the ones who dont have to
be pet's to their daddies and their daddies friends.
daddy liked to love me. i think he hated
me and called it love instead.
he told me i was a lucky girl because he
was going to love me like he loved mama and that big love was very
special.
i never felt special i always felt dirty.
i dunno if this is for the site. u can
put me there if u want.
i just wanted sumbody to kno i exist.
Masks system
Map
It
is basically a list of the
Others inside the Mask system, including the body's age when they were
created, their individual age, and their purpose or main memory .
Caution!
The
majority involves abuse, which for some readers may be a trigger or
upsetting.
To access the map click :
Masks'
System Map
A
day in the life of......
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