Moving the Goalposts

"I am not you," said the Other. "I am alien. I am darkness to your light. I am ignorance to your knowledge. I am mystery to your openness."

"I know you," said the teenager. "I know what it is to be despised and misunderstood. I know the feeling of crying alone in the night where no one can see because no one can see. I feel your pain, the pain of separation and isolation. Everyone is Other to someone. I understand."

"Are you still talking?" The Other snapped her gum and tossed her hair. "Omigod, you are such a weirdo."