Marna Larsen’s review published on Letterboxd:
June again. I both tell myself 'it's your own fault you feel invisible. You made a choice.' And 'circumstances, circumstances' that anyone is you, in a different life, and sometimes there are no choices, only acceptance or bitter, corrosive regret.
I'm with a wonderful person. And is my 'yet' so much different than anyone's who thinks, 'I could be with someone else??' (Or lots of someone else's.) And was my writing really so important? You certainly couldn't prove it by how I'm received here. I always feel I've done or said something wrong or haven't said something I should have.
Or it's just that, my parents loved and raised me. No matter what, it's wrong of me not to conceal any abuse. After all, parenting is hard, and what would I know about it anyway?
Are people really freer or braver than me? Or are they just luckier?