For as long as I can remember feeling things, I've felt sadness. Now, for example, I feel sad that we have no money. Also a little mad that a bunch of idiots seem to have it all. But sad, mostly, because I think that's just the way things are. It's an all-encompassing feeling, like my lungs are filled with it instead of air.
You'd think it would feel better to be at one with the world.
Janet works at a rundown dog shelter in the woods. She wears black, loves the Smiths, and can't wait to get rid of her passive-aggressive boyfriend. Her brain is full of anxiety, like "one of those closets you never want to open because everything will fall out and crush you." She has a meddlesome family, eccentric coworkers, one old friend who's left her for Ibiza, and one new friend who's really just a neighbor she sees in the hallway. Most of all, Janet has her sadness-a comfortable cloak she uses to insulate herself from the oppressions of the wider world.
That...
