Ground control

"This is Ground Control to Major Tom
You've really made the grade
And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear
Now it's time to leave the capsule if you dare"



I feel that there is going to be a major communication error about to take place very, very soon.
You see, progress is finally being made after several years of feeling abandoned and stuck in one place. We've finally got movement and contact, I am no longer drifting in space entirely alone. Something is out there and it wants to help.

"for here, am I sitting in a tin can, far above the world. Planet Earth is blue and there's nothing I can do."

The communication error would be that I simply do not know how to translate without the means of poetry or my bizarre metaphors, and perhaps I should try, but maybe not here? Maybe somewhere... fresh. A new ground if I may. See, I have to somehow put into simple words how my mind is uniquely wired and how I am tormented by the operating system.
I must make communication and I must do it effectively, because I only have so many chances at this. I must compose myself and conduct a beautiful symphony of simple words for the medical field, because I have finally accepted that things are, well, not okay with me anymore.


If you click on my profile there should be a link to the BPD Blog I'm about to make, if not please message me for the link and I will gladly hook you up.

Peace, Love, and Weirdness 

xoxo -Dev
TORH

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