“For the entirety of my young and skittish life, I had fixated upon my fear as if it were the most interesting thing about me, when actually it was the most mundane. In fact, my fear was probably the only 100 percent mundane thing about me. I had creativity within me that was original; I had personality within me that was original; I had dreams and perspectives and aspirations within me that were original. But my fear was not original in the least. My fear wasn’t some rare kind of artisanal object; it was just a mass-produced item, available on the shelves of any generic box store.
And that’s the thing I wanted to build my entire identity around?
The most boring instinct I possessed?
The panic reflex of my dumb inner tadpole?