Anna David

Once upon a time, I trusted my brain implicitly. Why wouldn’t I? It had kept me alive, after all, and no one had ever told me that this cerebral cortex of mine was unreliable. When my brain told me certain things—say, that I didn’t have feelings for someone anymore, that a friend had wronged me or that my boss deserved to get an earful about how dissatisfied I was—I assumed it was correct and acted on those thoughts.