“I don’t know what they want from me,” he says. “I don’t know who they want me to be. They tell you to be yourself, but they don’t mean it, and I’m just tired... ” His voice breaks. “I’m tired of falling short. Tired of being... it’s not that I’m alone. I don’t mind being alone. But this–” His fingers knot in his shirtfront. “It hurts.”
