I could have sighed and said dismissively, "Men..." myself when I had even less of a grasp on the obscure rules of neurotypical socialization than I do now. Women seem easier to understand when you don't have to behave like one, and you're never in any kind of meaningful relationship with one. Now, of course, I think the target of the dismissive sighs should be myself.
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The red lake has been forgotten. A dust devil stuns you long enough to shroud forever those last shards of wisdom. The breeze rocking this forlorn wasteland whispers in your ears, “Não resta mais que uma sombra”.