“You know, it's an odd feeling to not know who you are," I started, trying to keep my voice even and not let urgency or anger skew my words.”
“I closed my eyes.“Are you okay?”“I’m tired. My knee is hurting again and I’m trying to teleport myself upstairs.”“Um, Kate, you can’t do that.”“I know. But I’m trying very hard. Let me know if I start fading?”
“Maybe you’re smiling as I stumble to put my feelings into words. But I’m trying to do her justice, you know?”
“I keep wishing, reflexively, for a glimpse of the future, so I'll know what to do. But I don't kid myself. I have to feel my way forward blindly. I try not to be afraid. Even if you know what's coming, you're never prepared for how it feels.”
“I feel you in my heart,and I don't even know you.”
“I am an artist you know ... it is my right to be odd.”