“I am who I say I am,I'm not some fantasyof how you think you think you knowor who I ought to be.I am a girl who is growing up in my own sweet time,I am a girl who knows enoughto know this life is mine.I am this and I am that andI am everything in-between.I'm a dreamer, I'm a dancer,I'm a part-time drama queen.I'm a worrier, I'm a warrior,I'm a loner and a friend,I'm an outspoken defenderof justice to the end.I'm the girl in the mirror who likes the girl she sees,I'm the girl in the gypsy shawlwith music in her knees.I'm a singer and a scholar,I'm a girl who has been kissed.I'm a solver of equationswearing bangles on my wrist.I am bigger than i ever knew,I am stronger than before,I am every girl I have ever been,and all that are in store.I am who I say I am.I'm not some fantasy.I am the me I am inside.I am whoI choseto be.”

“I am stronger than words and I am bigger than the box I'm in, and then I see her in the crowd and I fall apart -I am listening and I am listening because what I'm playing isn't something I'm thinking about, it's something I'm feeling all over.”

“I'm not invisible. I have desires. I want to be touched and held and told that I'm worth something. I am not pitiful. I am better than you can imagine. I have talents. I have successes and failures. I love my life. I sometimes feel dissatisfied with the world. I come from a place of love, not death. I am special. I matter. I can be the most interesting person in the room. I can blend in and that's okay. I'm somebody. I'm a nobody. I feel deeply and I want to be allowed to show it. I don't want to be judged. I can be judgmental. When you give me platitudes and you belittle my feelings. I'm brave. I'm scared. I'm wandering. I have plans. I will be the best me I can be. I am not who I think I am. I am not who you think I am; I am who I think you think I am, so think well of me, please.”

“Then why didn't you tell her. She calls me telling me she loves me telling me that I'm everything to her. She says that you've opened her eyes to who I really am, but does she know who I really am Lexi? Does anyone other than you know who I am?”

“Are you coming down with something?" Mom asks.And just for the tiniest of seconds, I wonder what would happen if I told them the truth. That school is nothing like I imagined it would be. That I'm not the girl in the catalog at all. I'm not a Happy College Student. I don't know who I am. Or maybe I do know who I am and I just don't want to be her anymore.”

“I know who I am. Bloody hell, I'm getting enough bills for Karl Pilkington so I hope I am him, 'cos if I'm not, I have no idea who I'm paying for.”