I don't remember much of my childhood. Is this an 'autism' thing, or an 'everyone else experiences this but I can't read or replicate their bullshit' thing?
I have a major personal conundrum: I enjoy spending time with people I like, but I have a severely limited supply of social energy to do so.
I didn't want to be asexual. I didn't realise that I didn't have to relinquish my beloved bisexual identity in order to make some space for this little bit of ace.
When neurotypical people talk about anxiety, they're not willing to talk about the other, less sympathetic, manifestations.
It was a crushing, overpopulated corner of hell, and I promised myself I would never go into the situation again unarmed.
I accept that this isn’t the kind of grandiose statement the great poets of our time will write songs about. But it is a huge, empowering revelation for me.
I have lost count of the times a headline has flashed with a tagline that sets my heart racing and none of the details I need to actually understand the situation.
There’s too much to write about, to think about, to be worried about. And it can be so overwhelming that I end up unable to do anything.
You claim to be against cruelty. And yet you will stand by and abet the cruelty that neurodiverse people face every day.
I feel obliged to give constant apologies for existing as a neurodiverse person in a neurotypical world.