Identity dissociation Stories

Harvard barely had time to resume the grind after spring break before Easter hit. I had hoped to get a few days off, jump on a plane, and fuck Sander, but the institution wouldn’t allow it. Too many assignments, too many papers, too many theses to argue. I had too much shit to sort, as well. The voyeur. The whore. The mindfuck of Grossbaum. The girl who peed herself in a bathroom and called it empathy. Oh, and the student...