At the same time, though I hated myself for feeling it, I was tired of living beyond the realm of easy. Decade after decade, relegated to watching the life I wanted play out. Too close to look away. Too far to be remembered. This was the perpetual “almost” that I wanted to understand … if I could understand autism. And me. And if I could keep it together long enough to get to “someday.”
We will never have it easy. We are autistic. Social interaction is hard.
