Musing 2
It’s like you have all those tidbits about you, about your personality, about your experiences. They are not really connected; that's just how you are.
You accept that social interactions are a little bit hard and exhausting; you attribute that to introversion.
"Sure I get intense when I like something; I am a curious person", you tell yourself.
Things must come in packs of threes; that's only a quirk.
At first, you want it to be a coincidence. Autism is so broad, you think that it's probably a common occurrence that people can identify with some of it.
And then it starts spinning, and it never stops, and you can explain all of your memories with that new lens.
The genie is out, and he’s not going back into the lamp. I am autistic. Or I convinced myself I am. It's the same thing.