"I'm not, but thanks," Faye replied, managing a wobbly little smile at that. "And that's a whole other thing -- I don't...."
How to phrase this.
"I'm not anything. I don't know who I am," she said, fairly earnest for Faye. "I'm three and a half years' worth of trying to figure my shit out and calling that a personality. I don't -- how could anyone love me, when I don't even know who me is, you know?"
It wasn't exactly poor self-esteem so much as just an ongoing, perpetual identity crisis. And Faye was willing to accept that he felt about her the way that he did, but maybe that would go some way in explaining why she was having such a hard time with it.
Particularly when you considered that Whitney had known a completely blank slate, without even those three years' of cobbled-together personality traits.
no subject
How to phrase this.
"I'm not anything. I don't know who I am," she said, fairly earnest for Faye. "I'm three and a half years' worth of trying to figure my shit out and calling that a personality. I don't -- how could anyone love me, when I don't even know who me is, you know?"
It wasn't exactly poor self-esteem so much as just an ongoing, perpetual identity crisis. And Faye was willing to accept that he felt about her the way that he did, but maybe that would go some way in explaining why she was having such a hard time with it.
Particularly when you considered that Whitney had known a completely blank slate, without even those three years' of cobbled-together personality traits.