PTMIs > the silt > no guilt

When she sees all that stuff which reminds her of things that make her feel guilty about the shit she’s done or not, then in a previous existence she’d feel goddamn bad.

But when she realises that the event is constructed – maybe easily, too; maybe easy as pie; maybe as high as the sky – and if not by active actors, p’raps by the maths of factors this mathematical, it becomes so much easier just to say: “Fuck off!”

For where an intentionality exists – whether universe-ridden or PTMI-ed; whether of people and tech or of higher construct somewhere – it’s the coolest thing in the world she knows to simply say goodbye to all those tiny pinpricks that hurt, and thus curtly revert to being the good person she was born: in need of no other interference bad – nor love quite lost, nor ever actually had.

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