...and tell you the worst of me and try to give you the best of me...

What I sometimes mistake for ecstasy is simply the absence of grief.

I am an emotional plagiarist, stealing other people's pain, subsuming it into my own until I can't remember whose it is any more.

She's talking about herself in the third person because the idea of being who she is, of acknowledging that she is herself, is more than her pride can take.