I Know Who You Are

by Alice Feeney

Not everybody wants to be somebody. Some people just want to be somebody else.

Sometimes it’s the people who love us the most that hurt us the hardest, because they can.

Ever since I was a child, I have preferred to inhabit the fictional lives of others, hiding in stories that have happier endings than my own;

I forget to eat because a journalist once called me ‘plump but pretty.’ I can’t remember what she said about my performance.