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I am "Josephine Wild."
I am 35 years old.
I am an artist and an ultra runner.
I experience the world differently.
I wake up.
I work and workout.
I play.
I eat.
Then I sleep.

I see things like design and shapes.
I focus on the details.
But I try to see the bigger picture.
I look at typefaces and fonts.
I get hyper-focused.
I like to work.
To make.
To create.
Day after day
This is what I do.

I am never finished.
I date things
Because I lose track of time.
Time is against me.
So, I learn not to waste it.

Sometimes, I make believe.
But I am not a child.
I am grace.
I am strength.
I am beauty.
I am determined.
I have a good heart.

I live in my own home
With my husband.
We share the same bed.
I have toys and figurines.
I collect them.
I arrange them.
They always stay the same.
They bring me joy.

I am easily distracted.
I like to escape.
I can run away with my thoughts.
I’ve learned to domesticate my emotions.
I am an artist.
I am wonderfully weird.

I like people too.
They are beautiful each in their own way.
It’s nice to connect with people,
To feel loved.
Now, I know that I am so, so loved.
It’s hard to let people go, especially when you love them.
I know that I’m not alone.

I am apart of this world.
I just experience it differently.
But sometimes, I don’t feel free.
My life isn’t easy, but it’s a gift.
Life wouldn’t be great if it was easy.
I’m easy to get along with, and now I understand.

I love music.
I love to sing.
The music I like doesn’t need words.
I’m sometimes without words.
I search for them.
I need them quicker than they come.
But that’s OK.

I try my best to better myself.
I am not wrong, I am different.
When I fall, I reset.
I try not to cling onto people, but it’s hard.
I’ve learned to forgive myself.
I’ve learned to love myself.

I make more of an effort to think things through.
I have succeeded at leaving my comfort zones.
My effort is success.

I am not a problem.
Life is opinion. The universe is change.
And I’m always changing, always growing, always living.
I have grown a good heart.

I am awesomely autistic.
The current version of the poem I wrote 11 years ago, "Who I Am" (3-6-13).
I am "Josephine Wild."
I am 24 years old.
I am an artist.
I have a false sense of reality.
I wake up.
I work.
I pray.
And I eat.
Then I sleep.

I see things like design and shape.
I focus on the details.
I look at typefaces and fonts.
I like to work.
To make.
To create.
Day after day,
this is what I do.

I am never finished.
I date things
because I lose track of time.
Time is against me.

I make believe.
I make believe
because I am a child.
A child I am.
I live at home.
I sleep in the same room.
I sleep in the same bed.
I have toys and figurines.
I collect them.
They always stay the same.

I am easily distracted.
I like to escape.
I like to be alone
with my thoughts.
I am an artist.
I am weird.

I like people too.
They are beautiful
in that each
are unique
and their own.
It's nice to connect
with people.
But then
you don't want them to go.
I am alone.
I become cold.

In my own little world,
I am trapped.
I make it harder than it has to be.
My life isn't easy,
but it's a gift.
Life wouldn't be great
if it was so easy.
I'm easy to get along with,
but hard to understand.

I like music.
I like to sing.
The music I like doesn't need words.
I need words.
I search for them.
I need them quicker
than they can come.

I try my best.
I'm not perfect.
I have my faults.
I cling onto people.
I forget
to swallow my pride.

I don't think things through
or leave my comfort zone.
I don't want to cause problems.
I yearn to change.
I am changing my heart.
This was written 11 years before learning I am autistic.

— The End —