identity
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A brief observation on how people sometimes meet an older version of you, and the moment when recognition finally catches up.
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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…
Notes from a Time Traveller by Elke Stevens 