Feeling a little Sensitive?

’ve always been prone to tears. Recently, I cried at some blunt comments an editor had made on an article I’d written. And then once more because my flatmate had again refused to empty any of the bins, which I interpreted as a personal attack – all before 11am. I know there are upsides to my sensitivity. I have a stash of nonoccasion-specific cards in my desk drawer ready to be filled with heartening words and inside jokes before being sent to loved ones having a shitty time. And my room-reading abilities allow me to navigate the moods of bosses to ensure my requests, updates and jokes land smoothly. But the frequency of my crying sessions has ramped up over