I hate being the favorite. I don't like it at all one bit. The pressure to be perfect. The pressure to be great The pressure to be astonishing and be the perfect weight. I'm not perfect. Nor am I great. Stop painting my picture you claim I create. Heaven forbid your perfect daughter is unique? Is my originality too weird for the things that you speak? Tell our family wonderful lies. And act like you've won some great grand prize. I'll hide myself just for your sake. Just don't be surprised when I eventually break.