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The Autism Spectrum According to Autistic People

Autism neurodiversity

Poetry

Poem: SSR Island

It’s my island, mine alone, so I’m alone. Singing to myself and the sea. With equally endless ever-churning fractal blacks above and below me. And

Poem: Anomaly

You are an anomaly;A nebula, the birth-place of light and wonder.Your glow is widespread and beyond reach. They will call you a rarity.They will ask

Growing up with Selective Mutism

The drive from Wellington, Florida to Chicago takes nineteen hours for a family of average luck.  Two days between the promise of a new adventure

Bittersweet is My Favorite Word

I’ve always felt that I am biding my time. When I say “I’ve always felt”, I mean as far back as I can remember. Like the things I was seeing and experiencing in my life were not the whole shebang.  There was another place I was living and operating . . . almost.

Bad Poetry, a Mask, & Truth

Trigger warning: this one is dark Content warning: bad poetry Fifteen years ago, I wrote a poem. This was fifteen years before I had a

Poem: SSR Island

It’s my island, mine alone, so I’m alone. Singing to myself and the sea. With equally endless ever-churning fractal blacks above and below me. And

Poem: Anomaly

You are an anomaly;A nebula, the birth-place of light and wonder.Your glow is widespread and beyond reach. They will call you a rarity.They will ask

Growing up with Selective Mutism

The drive from Wellington, Florida to Chicago takes nineteen hours for a family of average luck.  Two days between the promise of a new adventure

Bittersweet is My Favorite Word

I’ve always felt that I am biding my time. When I say “I’ve always felt”, I mean as far back as I can remember. Like the things I was seeing and experiencing in my life were not the whole shebang.  There was another place I was living and operating . . . almost.

Bad Poetry, a Mask, & Truth

Trigger warning: this one is dark Content warning: bad poetry Fifteen years ago, I wrote a poem. This was fifteen years before I had a

Poem: SSR Island

It’s my island, mine alone, so I’m alone. Singing to myself and the sea. With equally endless ever-churning fractal blacks above and below me. And

Poem: Anomaly

You are an anomaly;A nebula, the birth-place of light and wonder.Your glow is widespread and beyond reach. They will call you a rarity.They will ask

Growing up with Selective Mutism

The drive from Wellington, Florida to Chicago takes nineteen hours for a family of average luck.  Two days between the promise of a new adventure

Bittersweet is My Favorite Word

I’ve always felt that I am biding my time. When I say “I’ve always felt”, I mean as far back as I can remember. Like the things I was seeing and experiencing in my life were not the whole shebang.  There was another place I was living and operating . . . almost.

Bad Poetry, a Mask, & Truth

Trigger warning: this one is dark Content warning: bad poetry Fifteen years ago, I wrote a poem. This was fifteen years before I had a