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            “Who are you?” People always ask that. Once they see that I know something about them and what is inside them, they always ask, “Who are you?” They recognize that I’m something more than what meets their eye. They know intrinsically that I’m not like the rest of the world. I’m a Pretender, but I’m unable to Pretend to be normal. Perhaps I could never have been normal, as a genius in American society, but the Centre destroyed any chance I might have had to even try. “Who are you?” Would they believe I don’t even know who I am?












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