But I’m hoping. God, am I hoping. I’m hoping my life will start making sense someday, possibly with a wave of a magic wand and tinkly little stars, but I know better. I hope that someday I might just find myself having a conversation and not think “hey, this is easy!” but rather not think about it at all, just flow with it. I hope I’ll ever see me, any part of me, as normal. I hope I’ll find my Home again. And I hope, more than anything I’ve ever hoped for in my entire life, that, on the last day on this earth, I will not be alone.