My name is Kevin, apparently.
That’s what he told me. It took me a long time to even remember that he had told me, but I wrote it down. So I’m Kevin. I’m don’t know Kevin who, though.
I don’t really know what I do. Or even if I do anything at all. I’m expecting he will tell me that too, so I mostly sit here watching the others.
I definitely don’t know what I like. I think I like tea and cats and old movies. But I might have made those up and that isn’t helpful. Is it?
I don’t know how long I will have to be here. He hasn’t said yet. It might be until he has told me all the things I need to know.
I don’t know what I look like, not in the face. My clothes are plain and rubbing thin in places. My hair feels long, but not as long as a girl’s.
I don’t know what I feel. Not like cold or tired, but whether I am happy or emotional or lonely. I need to know how I am supposed to feel. I don’t seem to develop feelings on my own.
Here he is now. Maybe I’ll know some more soon. He’s writing me again.