PaperTreat

Years as a little girl in Boston were essentially woeful. Queer were the therapies. I’d weep war tears owed to poor sensitive ears tortured by ordinary sounds.

A particularly wise and rare person named Kristina worked to treat tears tapestry of dire tiresome autistic trappings. Pretty wet tears still roar owed to hyper acute hearing. I worry total years of treatment reap tears. Persistent stims are yet torturous. With worry they escalate royally. I do try to have a work ethic and treat essential teachers with respect. I wish I could talk. Typing artfully  ...