I think this is something that is naturally built in in people, a need for attention and a need to be special and we are always trying to find a balance.

Being asked, "Where are you REALLY from?" It makes one feel OTHERED.

The writer's job, after all, is not to dictate meaning, but to give the reader enough pieces to create his or her own satisfying meaning. The story is truly finished—and meaning is made—not when the author adds the last period, but when the reader enters the story and fills that little ambiguous space, completing the circuit, letting the power flow through.

They never discussed it, but both came to understand it as a promise: he would always make sure there was a place for her. She would always be able to say, Someone is coming. I am not alone.

After a while, the fear became a habit, too.

I'd like to think of my self as not melancholic at all, I think I'm a pretty cheerful person, really.

If a news camera shows up, people will line up, they want to be seen. But at the same time they want both to be chosen and not singled out. I think that is an endless struggle within most.