autistic-women

  • In the last days of the year, when the turning of the sun was very short and the nights stretched like ink, there lived a Lantern who did not yet know it was a Lantern. It had always been told it was too bright, too strange, too reflective. When storms came, people covered it instead…

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  • Honestly, at this point, I’m convinced the universe is writing my life like a cosmic sitcom. Picture this: I finally get diagnosed autistic at forty-five and immediately discover I’m now both the ancient mythical sage and a small, overstimulated goblin-child who needs grape juice, quiet, and maybe a nap. The duality is outrageous. One minute…

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