It was never going to take long. The gunfire was still echoing, the grief still raw, and already the script was waiting. Not from the fringes this time, not from anonymous accounts stitching lies together in the dark corners of the internet, but from the podium of the White House itself. A statement polished to a blade: blame named, enemy chosen, cause declared. “Unhinged crusade.” That’s the phrase they use. Not grief, not inquiry, not even hesitation—just crusade. As if cri

It starts quietly, like so much else in this country now. An order slips across the wires, sudden and absolute: every general, every admiral, every senior commander above a certain rank must be in Virginia. Not a request. A command. Rearrange your missions, reroute your flights, leave your posts. The world will wait. And they come. Hundreds of them. Veterans of old wars, survivors of deployments that stretched decades, men and women who have buried soldiers under too many fla

It keeps happening. We’ve seen another shooting. This time, two ICE detainees are critically injured, with one dead, in Dallas. And already, the same war machine is turning: press conferences, buzzwords, declarations of war. A shell casing marked “ANTI-ICE” becomes the proof of an ideology. A name. A face. A photo. A post. That’s all it takes. The script is ready. But dig even slightly beneath the surface and it slips. As Ken Klippenstein has uncovered , Joshua Jahn, the shoo

They’re not curing autism. They’re trying to erase it. The Trump administration just took a dangerous step: they’ve officially endorsed...

We didn’t talk much that morning. Just sat there, watching the sun catch the road like it had a secret to tell. It’s funny—when I was younger, I used to believe that love meant finding “The One.” My soulmate. My twin flame. Chalk it up to Disney movies, maybe, or just being a kid who wanted to feel safe and chosen. Even in elementary school, that was the daydream running through my head. Not “what do you want to be when you grow up?” but “who’s going to sit beside me forever?

The Trump administration has now confirmed the worst of the rumors. In a sweeping set of announcements, they have officially endorsed the...

Some stories don’t end in triumph. Some don’t end in reconciliation. Some just end in silence, and the decision to stop carrying someone else’s weight. This is one of those stories. For fifteen years, I loved someone. Not passively, not distantly. Romantically, fiercely, foolishly at times. He was the first man I ever had feelings for, and I believed, again and again, that if I just held on long enough — if I carried both of us long enough — he’d find his way back to the boy

Those words sit on my chest like a wet coat. They are not dramatic for me; they are accurate. Not because a stranger told me so once, but because I keep proving it to myself — in the small, honest places where I can’t hide. In the ways I’ve spoken (too loud, too blunt), in the ways I’ve lashed out when sleep and food and safety ran thin, in the ledger I keep of all the times I failed to be the person I promised I’d be. I am not trying to be poetic about it. I am trying to be

This isn’t a celebration post. It’s a grieving one. For everyone who’s lost in silence while the spotlight only shines on power. Not every death means the same thing. Some are tragedies. Some are signs of a deeper sickness in the system. Some are the inevitable result of a machine that thrives on cruelty. And while we’re all supposed to treat them as equal—mourn them the same, respond the same—the truth is: context matters. Power matters. And who gets heard in death says a lo

Not everything ends in a scream. Sometimes it starts in silence. With memories quietly swept away. With a story rewritten so often that the old one disintegrates beneath it. The past erased— And the erasure itself forgotten. Until the lie becomes truth. And then, one day, it shifts. Just slightly. A cold wind under a blue sky. You glance at the clock. It says thirteen. The world insists it’s always said thirteen. Then the scream begins. Not from a mouth. From a system. Online

So, let’s talk about the news that broke today. I don’t know who will read this, or how it will be judged, or what eyes will pick it apart once it leaves my hands. That’s fine. I only know that I can’t carry it silently. I need to let it out, to trace the shape of my grief in words, even if I don’t have answers. Because this is not how it should have happened. There is no healing in this. No restoration. The people who were harmed by his words, by the violence he nurtured and

Nothing Is Wrong  is what I said to survive—but every note tells the truth: storm, fracture, survival, and finally, a breath of serenity....

Update (Sept. 22): Rumors are now circulating that Donald Trump will announce folinic acid as a “cure” for autism, while doubling down on...

For me, autism isn’t outside of my art—it’s the lens itself. The way I frame the world is the way I live in it. I used to think I was...

The smallest kindnesses—turning down the volume, reminding me to eat—kept me standing when I thought I’d fall. I don’t think any of us get through this life on our own. We like to imagine we’re self-sufficient, that we pull ourselves up and carry the weight alone. But sooner or later, life knocks every one of us flat. Illness, loss, betrayal, heartbreak, storms you didn’t see coming. Nobody is too strong to fall. And when you do, what gets you through isn’t politics or argume

A fire in the hearth, a neighbor at the door—sometimes decency is that simple. I was raised to believe something simple: if somebody’s in...

Cruelty is loud. Apathy is rampant. My rebellion is simple: keep caring, keep clear, keep human in an ordinary world.

" When you learn to “ win ” people by mirroring their desires , deflecting conflict , and flattering their egos , what you ...

Between 2019 and early 2021, I was heavily involved in the autistic self-advocacy world. I helped lead campaigns. I built platforms. I...

The Medicaid cuts are real. But the sky isn’t falling—at least not yet. Let’s talk about what’s happening, what isn’t, and why the fear...