This one is about a book I started to read.

For five days, I swallowed the pages whole. I carefully chewed on the inked words, meditating on them, considering them carefully, and digesting them.

I made them a part of myself.

I talked about how full I felt. “You’ve got to read it, it’s changed my life,” I’d say to anyone who asked what I was up to these days. I told them I was reading a book. And I was. I read and chewed and meditated and digested 58 pages of this book.

On the sixth day, I put it aside. “It’s one of those books you refer back to, not something you can read all in one go,” I lied. The ferocious hunger that had consumed me as I tore the first page and put it to my lips had been calmed by the inked words. Without the desire to feed, the process simply stopped.

Here’s a quote from those 58 pages that I have memorized. If you see me in the streets, or pass by me in a narrow hallway somewhere, stop me in my tracks and say, “Tell me what has moved you so.” And I will say, “Great art reaches through the fog, toward this secret heart - and it shows it to you, holds it before you.” I will raise my hand in front of me, and I will continue, “It’s a revelatory, incredibly moving experience when this happens. You feel understood. You feel heard.” I will put my palms on my heart and I will tell you, “That’s why we come to art - we feel less alone. We are less alone. You see, through art, that others have felt the way you have - and you feel better.”

This quote happens to land exactly on page 58 of that book. It’s written by Khaled Hosseini in a chapter titled, “Everything I Meant to Say.” These inked words filled me to the brim. They called out to my soul in a darkened room, light a fire within, and watched me be consumed by it. I felt called out, frustrated, and upset at what I was digesting. The fear of being known by those that read your words is palpable with every word I type. I wonder if others have felt like this before me? Do they still? If they moved on from this fear, how did they?

For now, I let that fear consume me. “Now you know me,” I’ll say, as you walk away from me in those streets and hallways. And I hope that you will.

Light in the Dark: Writers on Creativity, Inspiration, and the Artistic Process. Edited by Joe Fassler.