What it feels like to always be stared at by strangers

By Paddy O'Reilly
Updated October 26 2014 - 10:13am, first published 4:00am
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I was 15. Three of us sat on my friend's bed, talking about school. Her mother leaned around the doorway to say hello and exclaimed at how my other friend's face had suddenly blossomed into great beauty, which it had, the way some faces do when teenagers are growing into their adult bodies. "You could be on TV!" she said. Don't look at me, I prayed, don't say anything. But she had to, because to her, silence would have seemed worse. "And you, darling, have such ... an intelligent face." It wasn't a surprise, but obviously it struck deep, because I still remember it so clearly.

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