recent flowery language on my part

(besides fwd being like that episode of Mr. Show)

Noah: I'm going to enter the New Yorker caption contest.
Me: You should enter the anti-caption contest, it's better.
Noah: No, because I want you to see me in the New Yorker. My caption is going to have your name in it.
Me: What?
Noah: Like, "So Amanda, when can you start work?"
Me: But how will I know it's my name and not another person named Amanda?
Noah: Because it'll say "submitted by Noah Schwarz."
Me: Noah, I really miss you, I sort of forgot. I still feel like you're a lot of cookies that I found under the bed, you know? I think I'll always feel that way.

Me: Oh, you're not boring! You're the bane of the world. You're, like, the Hound of the Baskervilles!

When you're ASD being normal is like a mosaic, and what I mean by this is that it's all a bunch of systems and rules that get smaller and smaller until you can barely see them and I just look like any other picture, but I'm really made up of squares and that will always be visible at close range. I'm clunkier and not as fluid.