As she grew up, she learned to suppress her oddities, one by one. All her anomalies were pulverised by family, school and society into a dull powder of ordinariness. Save for the baby in the mist. But she always knew she was different. A strangeness she must do her best to hide; a scar that would remain forever etched on her skin. She put so much effort into being normal that often she had no energy left to be anything else, leaving her with feelings of worthlessness. At some point unbeknownst to her, solitude had stopped being a choice and become a curse instead. An emptiness inside her chest, so profound and so permanent that she imagined it could be compared only with the absence of God. Yes, perhaps that was it. She carried the absence of God within. No wonder it felt so heavy.

  • Three Daughters of Eve (Elif Shafak)

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