There’s a type of neurotypical person that has made me feel shitty my whole life. I’m done with them, the way I am with a lot of cis people.
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Everything’s overwhelming, so I didn’t think I’d post today or anytime soon. And then I saw this poem by Mary Oliver.
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These days, I take my joy where I can find it. Sometimes it takes me to unexpected places. Between sleeps, I wrote about one such time.
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