“Also, I knew that if I said a single word, I would burst into tears, as I always did, always had, my entire life, whenever anything difficult had to be discussed. It always was too scary; a threat I had felt since childhood that at any moment a relationship might disappear with a poof because of something little I had done or said.

There in my crummy apartment, I felt like we were together after the Fall, expelled from a perfect garden. I always imagined a golden age—a time before the Fall, between me and every other person—before they knew my ugliness. Then I felt irrevocably uneasy once it had been revealed, when there could be no more appealing to their total trust and admiration, to that early, easy innocence.”

—currently reading How Should a Person Be? by Sheila Heti (I have to see what all the fuss is about! Although, it is bringing on a little bit of an existential crisis.)

What are you reading?