“I have always swung back and forth between
alienation and relatedness. As a child, I would run away from the beatings, from the obscene
words, and always knew that if I could run far
enough, then any leaf, any insect, any bird, any
breeze could bring me to my true home. I knew I did not belong among people. Whatever they
hated about me was a human thing; the
nonhuman world has always loved me. I can't
remember when it was otherwise. But I have
been emotionally crippled by this. There is
nothing romantic about being young and angry, or even about turning that anger into art. I go
through the motions of living in society, but
never feel a part of it. When my family threw me
away, every human on earth did likewise.”
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