Bokelskere.no

"I didn't say you were. But I understand feeling defensive about it. It's a stereotype of autistics, that we're these cold, emotionless shells, which isn't true. We just feel differently. And often the case is that we actually feel so much, we have to compartmentalize it, funnel it into coping mechanisms that make it manageable." She sucks in a shaky breath. "You're the first person who gets that."

"My little sister is on the spectrum. So, while everyone is unique, and I'm no expert, I love someone who's autistic. And I hope you know I'm a safe place for you to be you."

Have you ever started out crying for one thing and found yourself crying for so much more by the time you really get going? That's what happens to me sometimes. That's what happens now.

Even when your illness isn’t invisible, people can still be blind to it. But I’m done being embarrassed or humiliated or defensive. I’m being me. Because that’s enough. And for the first time in too many years, I know that I’m loved for exactly who I am. The person who reminded me of that waits for me in a little cabin in the woods. I can only hope he’ll forgive and love me still.

"Relationships aren’t perfect, Frankie. They’re living, breathing things. They have growing pains. They have highs and lows. They take trust and forgiveness. They don’t require perfection or flawlessness. They just require two people who want to love each other and keep learning the best way to do that."

The truth is there, like it’s always been. Sunshine and storms share the sky, but never together. They brush, tangential, fleeting moments of breathtaking beauty—the burning, life-giving sun piercing through a blackened sky—until it’s over so quick, it makes you wonder if it ever happened at all.