Why can't I be normal about anything ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️
All roads lead back to being sensitive ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️
I wish I wasn't autistic so I could've just partied. and had fun. and felt alive. when I was young and most free to do so. instead of sitting in my room developing all this useless emotional depth I can't do anything with.