Staying fit with Malena Morgan
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Eddie goes up to Hopper like the world isn’t about to end and is like, “How’d you bag a babe like Joyce Byers? She’s so out of your league. How’d you do it?”
Hopper just sputters because rude and he knows. Before he can even answer, Murray’s annoying ass cuts in, “They argued all the time until the sexual tension got too high.”
“Arguing,” Eddie nods, taking that in. “Got it, I’m on the right track.”
Then he turns around and yells on the top of his lungs, “Harrington! I think Abba sucks!!”
“Are you kidding me right now, Munson?!”
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First art of the new year is all about re-structuring your internal monologue.
In my early 20s I was working full time in London with many social commitments and a variety of hustles and side projects.
In my later mid 20s I cater to many sensory and social drain needs I have and indulge in special interests while respecting my lower energy reserves and celebrating my different way of processing the world.
Did I get more autistic? Nah. I got less fake.
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[Art description: Three panels showing figures on a black background. Long descriptions follow.
1. A drawing of OP as a person with hip-length hair and a dress standing sadly with her hands clapsed together in front of her. She is coloured a muted rainbow gradient. Behind her, two pairs of nondescript figures chat while smiling. White text says, ‘I’m getting more and more autistic the older I get.’ 2. OP’s colours are brighter, and her expression looks happier. Crayon-like scribbles have crossed out the text from the previous panel. 3. OP’s colours are vibrant, and she balances on one leg and throws her arms out as she dances. The text above has changed to say, ‘I’m becoming more and more myself the older I get.’ \End descriptions]
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