I'm quite sure more people fake an awful lot of everyday human contact. I just fake all of it." --Dexter

Since I am not actually a real human being, my emotional responses are generally limited to what I have learned to fake.

After a long moment I closed the freezer door. I wanted to lie down and press my cheek against the cool linoleum. Instead I reached out with my little finger and flipped the Barbie's head. It went thack thack against the door. I flipped it again. Thack thack. Whee. I had a new hobby.

They like to tell us that it is important to speak the truth, but it has been my experience that real happiness lies in having people tell you what you want to believe, usually not the same thing at all, and if you have to stub your toe on the truth later, so be it.

Nothing else loves me, or ever will. Not even - especially - me. I know what I am and that is not a thing to love.

Life teaches us that human thought almost never walks hand in hand with logic, and it is usually counterproductive to raise the point.

I stood up. It was all too much. I could not even meet my own expectations, and to be asked to deal with all theirs too was suffocating.