Slowly, I am beginning to see what this anxiety is about, to see its lineaments: it has something to do with being left alone to handle a situation I am not competent to handle; it has something to do with being known and unknown, with the sense that I go through life hidden, masked…. And to the degree that I am masked comes off, once my friends and intimates, my charmed students, even my beloved, loving aunts see the corruptions and shames of my real heart, they will vanish, and I will be left alone with the tea-steeping house fire, left alone outside my stepmother’s farm with the avian flu, alone.
Be pleased, O Lord, from this to deliver me.
Lauren Winner, Still
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