"He may never be able to share those parts of himself that are... ugly.
That's the word, he supposes. No other word for it. Ugly and twisted, not through any fault of his own, maybe, but still bearing marks indicative of something fundamentally wrong.
Something wrong done. A terrible crime he did not commit but which he must pay for anyway.
A beautiful thing broken, made unpleasant to look at."

“For I do not exist: there exist but the thousands of mirrors that reflect me. With every acquaintance I make, the population of phantoms resembling me increases. Somewhere they live, somewhere they multiply. I alone do not exist.” ― Vladimir Nabokov

"Eccentric is putting it mildly, Gently, if not clinically insane, is probably more accurate."