As a model I had a lot of success when I was 17 and 18 years old. It was before social media, before the world was what the world is, but even then it was terrifying, to be 18 years old and people knowing who you are, and I was this personality who was completely devoid of who I actually was. It was almost like being a manufactured boy band. You're sort of like a wind up doll; they wind you up and put you on the runway or something like that.

I've not met one person, even if they are not creative, who isn't dysfunctional. I guess artists are just a bit more aware of their dysfunction because it serves a purpose.

I was always the weirdo at school. When I became a model [at 16], I didn't tell anybody. I was terrified that the kids would rip me to pieces.

I'm surrounded by freaks. Am I weirder than the rest of them? Ultimately I've learned to pride myself on being quirky.

I like feeling a bit of an outcast where I am. I've always been that way. Somehow, I fit in by not fitting in.

One girl came up to me - I remember it so vividly - she said, "You're not fit to model socks." It crushed me. But at the same time, it made me unbelievably determined to prove everybody wrong and prove to myself that I could live an incredible life.

I feel like somehow I'm living my life mentally in reverse. It's taken me to my 30s to feel relaxed and comfortable in my skin. I think I'm going to be dancing on tables when I'm 50. I really hope I am.