This isn’t anything profound. It’s just something I can’t stop thinking about recently, which is a good enough reason to write.
I’m going to be mentally ill forever. It’s such a weird thing for me to accept, because I lived so long not knowing that I was. I didn’t plan for this. I’ll always be myself, even when I don’t want to be. (Which happens semi-frequently.) There’s just nothing I can do about it, and that’s not just weird to me, it’s scary. Anyone else can leave my life whenever they’d like, and never again be affected by my existence. I’m not only AFFECTED by my existence, I AM my existence. Maybe that doesn’t bother other people, but it sure bothers me. That could just be because other people are more comfortable being themselves than I am. I’ve never been good at that. But to be fair, I’m at a disadvantage more so than most people. I got a bit of a late start, and went through the wrong puberty, which doesn’t help.
But it’s not just my physical self that I’m uncomfortable with, and it’s not the only thing I feel I had a late start on. My mental health wasn’t addressed for far too long either. I feel so far behind everyone else, because in a lot of ways, I am. But of course, “The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now.” I’m doing what I can now to make up for lost time.