Just watched the trailer for Little Wing.

Burst into tears.

Learning to let myself have those moments.

Sit with my feelings.

Let them roll over me.

Maybe figure out the why.

There isn’t one, not always.

Happened to be one today.

It’s a “coming of age” movie, where awkwardness is a phase, and a passing one.

A thing you outgrow, a shell you leave behind.

Except as one of the neurodivergent, I’ll never get past that.

I’m forever out of sync with the neurotypical.

And the closeted neurodivergent who either can’t or won’t acknowledge their otherness.

Because as I am is never enough.

I cannot be accepted in the fullness of me.

My strings will always tie me down, the strands of neurons jerking me away from being A Real Boy who can walk amongst the normies as one of them.