When I was 12, Aspergers had just been standardized and my parents probably were not aware of this themselves. They had already brought me to at least 20 doctors and psychologists years and years before and were unsure what to think of me. Finally, one did identify it and told them about Aspergers.
Ever since that day, my parents knew I was different. They hated it. They expected me to be normal and get a good paying job, have a good social life, and all that biz. Guess that hasn't happened in the next few years.
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"Art is a lie; the lie tells the truth."
Picasso