Gone Again

by Minka Kent

My anxieties rotate on a never-ending carousel. For as long as I can remember, an unsettled sensation has resided in the pit of my stomach, though sometimes it takes up occupancy in my chest, and other times it loiters in my head. But it never leaves. It’s always there. Like background noise.

knowing that perhaps people don’t think of me the way I thought they did, the idea of someone speaking ill about me behind my back when all I’ve done is happily bend over backward for every person in my circle . . . that changes things.

if there’s anything I’ve learned over the years, it’s that grown-ups wear personalities like masks, switching them out when the moment calls for it.