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Carrie Beckwith-Fellows

For the first time in my life, I feel I'm not alone.

For the first time, I feel very grateful for all the things. All the weird stuff that people say I do.

For remembering number plates and noticing their road patterns.

For staring at people's forehead when I talk with people.

For mimicking gesture and people persona so that I could be acceptable by others.

For listening to multiple chatter when I'm sitting at a café.

For seeing patterns vividly in front of my eyes.

For cutting all communication with everyone because I need it.

For immersing myself in one thing, and only that one thing for days and weeks.

Be it may that people might not get it, that they think maybe that's just me being introverts. Or just me being anti-social. That maybe it's just a phase, or a hype.

But those people were not there, on all the struggle. On why I get angry and they don't get it. On why I get sad and they don't get it. On why I need to delete my communication tools. On why I couldn't just be normal like other people. On how you see something and yet you can't share it to others, let alone see it.

For months, years, decades. For 20+ years. For as long as I can remember.

Those who feel it understand, and those who don't might never will. And that's okay.

All that matter is, I am not alone. And I finally have the answer of what I am.


Photo by Ryan Bataillon

Folie

by Folie

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