Henry killed himself today three, maybe four times. He's lost count. He's too busy trying to negotiate his roles as social service employee and late-night live stream masturbatory fetishist. Like any run-of-the-mill, post gen Xer, Henry's conflicted. But figuring our who he is will take more than untrimmed bangs, skinny jeans, and a handful of razorblades. Different aspects of his personality are materializing. Most of them want to start a neo-anarchist cult and drive the world into a state of pure chaos. Some of them are sexual narcissists who want Henry's ass in the most literal sense possible. Henry just wants to jerk off in his Goddamned basement. Alas, chaos calls.