Cygnus James Yew

The Titanic sank four minutes back, and it sank one hundred and thirteen years back. Everything in between is the infinite.

I forgot how to say 'window' in english one time nine months back and now it's a running joke between me and my friend to say 'la fenêtre' instead

Alright so I tried to do an Asian accent (you know the Steven He voice? that one) and I just ended up sounding even more French
          
          yippee

I am currently writing an essay on the rise of Voldemort and his Death Eaters and how it parallels Fascism and racism in World War II.
          
          On Google Forms.
          
          During my Indian classical singing class.
          
          What the fuck am I doing.

It is currently 12 a.m. on March 10th, 2025.
          Happy birthday, Remus Lupin!

Where, oh where has my sanity gone?
          Oh where, oh where could it be?

Pride tea party:
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/1523774895-pride-tea-party-rules-and-payments

Okay, so I don't have dyslexia (well, I may have mild Phonological Dyslexia, although I don't think so). My mother was wrong about that. However, I do have dysgraphia.
          Wow. I'm ambidextrous, have loved to read since before I actually could, and I have dysgraphia. I don't think it's severe, but my handwriting is slow and almost illegible, my grip is horrible, I misspell things when writing them, and I write in a mix of cursive and print.
          My spelling in my head is fine, though. Yay.
          
          How's life?

So, I am dyslexic. I never caught it because it's not in reading. I love to read, and the letters never really move around for me (I lose my line quite a bit, though, and sometimes my OCD makes me read sections or words multiple times or scroll up and down past a particular bit to get it just right).
          
          I always wrote my a's and 3's backwards in second grade, and confused my b's and d's and p's and q's. I was in second grade, for heaven's sake, and rather good at spelling, if you ignored the confusion, so that slipped. Third and fourth grade, it lessened a bit but still continued, but that was online school. Almost everything was typed. It really showed itself in fifth and sixth grade, but I learned to catch my mistakes. Now, in seventh grade, I still struggle with mixing them up.
          
          I'm still good with spelling, though, so I've got that going for me. But I'm in Algebra II, and I struggle with my times tables of 6, 7, and 8. And it was even worse in years previous. In the sixth grade, I still had to count on my fingers. And I'm horrible at subtraction. I'm doing trigonometry, and complex and imaginary numbers, and factoring polynomials, and so much more, and I still have to use my fingers to subtract 58 from 93. Or scratch paper.
          
          I was far off the mark when repeating numbers back in reverse order, too. Horrible.
          
          I've got five indicators out of nine. And I never realized I could have it, because I was reading the images in picture books at six months old. I spoke three languages at two years old. I was reading chapter books voluntarily by the first grade. I was in the student council, and a higher math level, and the gifted program, for goodness sake, what more do you want? How could I have dyslexia?
          
          And then I took the results to my mom (she's a doctor), and she was like, "Oh, yeah, you have dyslexia. I've known since you were in second grade.".
          
          Wow.

When I was in second grade, I had a friend. A friend called E. And I'd always been drawn towards people who seemed small and fragile, or who were being bullied, because I had the strength to help them. And E was a victim of narcissism. Her friend, A, wouldn't let her talk to anyone, least of all me. A seemed to hate me, and the feeling was mutual. And she pretended that they were sisters and forced E to go along with it, saying that they were secret fairies who lived in a plateau in my neighborhood.
          
          There was no plateau in my neighborhood, and I wasn't stupid. And then E actually told me that they weren't sisters, when I asked, one day, when A was late- I asked where she was, stating that E should know- they were sisters. We had fun, on that day. She was always rather frail (so was I), and she let me pick her up during recess with my spindly little arms. And then came A herself, taking E away, saying, "She's my friend, my sister. Don't talk to her."
          
          So yeah, I confronted her, and then took A to E, and long story short, E ended up crying and A ended up yelling at her, and I ended up walking away (I was a coward, occasionally). And no teachers ended up involved, for some stupid reason.
          
          But I still feel guilty, because E looked so betrayed. She had said to me not to tell A that she told me they weren't sisters. And I still did.