Early Morning Blurb 2

 Good morning to the two people that may read this, lol.

 This morning I was thinking about change. I was just spreading peanut butter on my pancakes, and it got a little melty because I had warmed my pancakes up before that. Warm peanut butter is very nostalgic, because my dad used to make me these waffle-peanut-butter-honey fold overs when I used to go on his mail route with him in the mornings as a kid. As I got older, I'd have one or two of those every morning for breakfast before I started going to school, and eventually I grew to, well not *hate*, but *strongly dislike* peanut butter. Not for any particular reason, I just got tired of it.

 Weirdly the same thing can be said about many things around that age. The terrible tweens. I didn't like pink, I didn't like dresses, I didn't like my parents or other adults, and I DEFINATELY did not like peanut butter. To be honest, I didn't openly like anything for a while. Probably one of the many things that contributed to a terrible middle school experience. But as I've grown, I regret wholeheartedly how much I refused to admit I liked anything at all. I changed into a completely unrecognizable version of myself, surrounded by people I would *never* associate with again given the chance.

 But I think growing up autistic, and not really knowing what that is or how it effects you, just knowing you're wrong, not wired right, contributed to that a lot as well. So I completely tried to re-wire myself. Ripping the cords out one at a time and plugging them into the wrong sockets. Yes, hello, I am the straight, cis, heteronormative, neurotypical person everyone at school would like me to be! I was a walking oxymoron. And at the same time, my inner child rebelling from this outward destruction at every chance she got, still keeping that inner fire lit inside. That fire I thought I had extinguished so I could be idealistic.

 Now that I'm freshly in my twenties, I do regret a lot of that. It was such a weird, performative time in my life. The even weirder part was directly after that, and a little during it too, figuring out my queer identity was suddenly my entire being for a couple years. Still no pink. Still no dresses, now short and very bright hair, but still all fairly performative.

 I'm so grateful now, after way more phases than I could fit into a single morning blurb, to be living my most thoroughly genuine self. The "cringey" parts and all. And I mean, shit man, not openly liking the things you like sucks cheeks. And now, finally, I like pink, I like dresses, I love my parents, and I think I'm starting to like peanut butter again.