“We repeat stories about ourselves to make sense of our worlds. The stories I’ve always told about who I am — that I don’t take risks, that I’m the good daughter, that I’m the uncomplicated girlfriend, that I have to look a certain way to be happy, that the shape of my future is not only obvious but inevitable — sound strangely discordant now, as if out of tune with my current self. But even though I’m starting to discern what I’m not, I still can’t pinpoint what I am. That’s what makes me think I never knew in the first place.”