[Fiction] Everyday is the same, ...3/1/2017

[Y.T.]

A new year meant nothing to her. A new day meant even less. All the faces were the same. All the days were the same. She would wake up to the sun shin, and go threw the motions. Her light was gone.Her life was a rut. She was thinking of going back on her word she needed something to take her walls down.She couldn't get agnry at having them up.

They sheilded her from harm far too well, but if she let them down she would surely wander lost in the chaos of her own emtions. She wanted her lover back. She wanted to have her wall ripped down.She wanted to feel alive.SHe hated feeling dead.She hated not feeling the hate.

She fixed her body to a pleasant form. A tall, woman, blond hair, and icy blue eyes. This woman was a professional hacker. She went threw companies and told the bosses who to fire, and what jobs would be best served by being farmed out to fuckstanbul.She knew the markets. She knew nothing but numbers and bottom lines. She had no friends.

She got into her car, and drove to the cafe. Some corporate place.It had art so bland and heartless that is almost suited Jane Doe.THat was the name YT used in this form. The paper work for it was detailed, and flawless. Jane Doe had the American fucking dream. She was young, rich and good looking. She could get happy pills anytime she wanted.

She got out of the car, she was here for coffee enema. Large thick black. She could have smiled at that thought if her walls were down.They weren't she looked at the people, and did not see them as people.She saw them as numbers. No faces. There were line that formed the patterns of shapes and colors, but they were lost to Jane Doe's eyes. They were just object to her. The 18 year old brastia, would think herself sexy, many people would agree.Jane Doe just saw raw numbers. There was no one in those numbers.There was just a machine built of out wet matter.