[She's frowning as she straightens back up, fussing over straightening her clothes so they're exactly in order. It gives her something to focus on rather than feeling as if she isn't enough.]

That's the thing. I'm not like you. Not like Daisy or Alina, or Kovacs. I'm not like Sabriel. I don't think I'm meant to be trying to do this at all.

[So why does she keep stubbornly trying? Why can't she just accept the fact that she's painfully, ordinarily human? The answer is standing right in front of her. Most people here are like him. Strong and powerful, able to contribute to missions in ways she can't. She's desperate to be like they are, to try and make herself better.

This is a stark reminder that at the end of the day, living dead girls don't get to be anything more than they already are.]

I wanted to be special like you all are so badly that I've lost sight of myself.