I spend my days vacillating between experiencing small pleasures (recently eating mango ice cream with fresh lime juice or noticing acts of kindness or a sunrise) and noticing small discomforts (often fatigue or noticing disappointments). I am intensely happy when I feel loved or when I feel like I can make a difference or when I can lose myself in the act of creating something. I feel deeply sad when I am isolated, betrayed, or don’t feel understood or cared for. I worry a lot about whether I’m competent or smart or talented or likable and if that’s enough. I like to feel like I’m a deeply good and caring person. I like to feel like an artist. I like to analyze what has made me the way I am.