I was born in Ireland a long time ago, but only toyed with writing when I was young. Toyed might be too kind. I goofed about with a pen and paper when I was a teenager, but never wrote anything more than a silly poem. You have to fight for your dreams in this life, and I didn't fight for mine. The thought of doing so never even crossed my mind back then and there was no encouragement from my family. These days I am battling the realisation that the reason I always felt like an alien is because I am autistic. The battle is not me versus ASD but rather me versus the knowledge that nobody was invested enough to have me tested when I was young enough to display many symptoms. Decades spent masking and pretending to be somebody who doesn't exist have destroyed the likelihood of a clinical diagnosis and left me suffering with my mental health. Writing is a sort of therapy for me. My readers occasionally comment upon the darkness of my story lines. Well, folks, that's therapy for you, never a dull moment and frequently dark. Take care out there.
