The way to be invisible - is to truly be imaginary. But since you cannot imagine yourself, you have to clone your imagination into being an image of yourself. Imagine that.

Tristan looked at me with pleading eyes, as though he could forget for one moment how I was programmed to respond to him—how even now upon hearing his confession, I wanted nothing more than to suck his beautiful cock to fulfillment, to straddle him right here on the edge of this roof, to let him fuck every orifice he’d created on my body. I fought back the feelings of lust, wondering if I’d ever truly be myself again, if I’d ever be free of the programming.

Twins were deified, and sacrificed, in a more savage culture: hypersimilitude was equivalent to the murder of the original, and thus to a pure non-meaning.

How would I know which one I was?

It’s better to be individual than a clone of someone else.

A clone may be a good copy, but you are the real thing!

What I'll think is that you are clearly, maddeningly not me. It will remind me, again, that you won't be a clone of me; you can be wonderful, a daily delight, but you won't be someone I could have created by myself.

Honestly, I'd rather be anywhere else. Even home, where my dad begins almost every conversation with, "You should lose the black clothes and wear something with color." Puh-lease. Like I want to look like every Barbie clone in Hell High, a.k.a. Oklahoma's insignificant Haloway High School. Ironically, Dad doesn't appreciate the bright blue streaks in my originally blond/now-dyed-black hair. Go figure. That's color, right?

If you choose to be fearless, then be fearlessly authentic not an imitation of someone you envy.

I suppose if you take one part asshole and mix one part drugs, then stir in too much money for a man’s own good, this is the kind of crazy gravy you end up with.