Sure, your flesh may die when deprived of blood; you may have the capacity for imagination and empathy; you may be able to speak their tongues; you may have these base desires, to eat and fuck and fight and sleep, so strong that they leave you a withered mess in the corner, preventing you from doing or thinking about anything else.
But there is something missing here. Something intangible. Something that those around you may notice years before you do.
When did you realize that your core is broken?
Was it when their stares finally pierced your armour? When you first had a fantasy that was wholly forbidden? When you were picked last for gym class one too many times? When the guidance counsellor shook his head, when her draw dropped looking at your marks? When you were being called a blessing on this earth, while others feared you? When you realized the police are not here to help you? When even those who are “like you” turned their backs? When you realized the villains are like you? When you looked in the mirror and wanted to destroy what you saw? When you were finally told, point-blank, that you’re dangerous?