Back in high school, I had garnered something of a reputation for myself as an eccentric. I had my critics and naysayers and bullies, but they were largely outnumbered by the kids who were fascinated by me. I wrote for the school paper my senior year, and had won numerous certificates of academic achievement, particularly in English. I even won a gold medal for my work. There was also an article in the paper in which I was interviewed on the subject of ASDs. All the while, I wondered why I was liked, and I still do. The four years in the halls of my school were hellish for me, but they were a necessary path. High school has a way of shaping people, for better or worse.
In those four years, I was in an utter funk. I hated myself and my faults, but the kids that were interested in me were there. Maybe I was well-known because I didn't fit into any particular mold or clique. I was an original. I wasn't really a nerd, I wasn't a jock, I wasn't rich, I wasn't a gangsta... nada. I was me. Maybe that's why.
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Yes, I'm still alive.