“I was out of a job again. I got many more. Sometimes I didn’t suit the people. Sometimes the people didn’t suit me. Sometimes my insides tortured me so that I was restless and unstable. I just was not the type. I was doing none of the things I wanted to do. I had to do numerous uninteresting things I did not want to do, and it was tearing me to pieces.
I wanted family love and peace and a resting place. I wanted books and school. When I saw fortunate people of my own age on their way to school, I would cry inside and be depressed for days, until I learned how to mash down on my feelings and numb them for a spell. I felt crowded in on, and hope was beginning to waver.”
Zora Neale Hurston
excerpt from her Autobiography:
“Dust Tracks On A Road”