It's been a long time since I'd thought about how hard blogging was for me, in the beginning, but when I decided to start this blog, I remembered.
I remembered how I didn't want anyone to know about my first blog or read what I had written. I remembered how I decided to hide it. Or at least hide it from everyone I knew. Doing that wasn't hard for me. I had been hiding things all my life. To just keep on hiding suited me just fine.
While I eventually got comfortable with other people reading my first blog - all my old insecurities came rushing back when I thought about blogging on autism. But I did want to do it. Partially because I felt isolated, but mostly because I have always worked things out through writing.
So, I revisited my old orphaned journals and misplaced poems and half finished manuscripts. I thought about all the false starts and the writing that I had loved, then hated. I saw those fragments, those bits and pieces, stretching across the entire course of my life like stepping stones in the dark and I knew that following them had saved me.
And I wondered if writing here might serve that same purpose
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