Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I’m one of them.
I have belief in every scar and disgraceful word I have ever spoken or been told because they are still teaching me. I have hope in who I am becoming.
They say it takes 756 days to run to someone you love and they also say that the only romance worth fighting for is the one with yourself, and I know by now that they say a lot of things, people talking everywhere all the time without saying a word. But if it took me all those years to learn myself, or teach myself how to look into the mirror without breaking it, I know for a fact that it was a fight worth fighting.
I stood up for my own head and so did my heart and we are coming to terms with ourselves. Shaking hands saying, “Let’s make this work,” for we have places to go and people to see, and we will need each other. So I have hope in who I am becoming.
![digital art of a bumper sticker. It reads: “I [drawing of two people’s hands in a way that suggests they’re having sex] someone with autism.”](https://64.media.tumblr.com/da7258b7308a1bfbe37ce3c19f55a8c1/a6e388e9831c6453-ed/s500x750/05b49091534578fd724f7be6dbd09291851fcf3d.png)