They are scared. They are jealous.
We are pathetic. We are stars.
We are either sad and sickly or we are glamorous and new. We walk in and the choices race through my head. Sad and sickly? Or glamorous and new? Sad/sickly or glamorous/new? Sad/sickly? Glamorous/new?
We are unusual and tragic and alive.
We walk into the throng of parents and children.
We are disadvantaged but young and virile. We walk the halls and the playground, and we are taller, we radiate. We are orphans.
[A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius]