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I am different. I am thankful for that. I know people understand me. I believe they feel like I feel. I know they smile like I smile. I know they cry like I cry. Not tears of sorrow, no, but rather tears of gratitude and contentment – the gifts provided to us by what I believe is a loving, benevolent force in the multiverse. How Dad Found Himself in the Padded Room: A Bipolar Father's Gift For The World

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