Stumbling Across the Internet

I’m not sure where to begin with this, I’m not even sure I’ll ever show anyone this, but I have been doing a lot of introspection in regards to my past, specifically my time in school from age 7-16. See, I’m autistic, and I was diagnosed less than 2 years ago. I was 26.

I had a lot of problems, in the early years I was aggressive and selfish as I didn’t understand that everyone couldn’t read my mind. I also tried to hog attention to prove how good I was since I got so little at home. I know I was a difficult classmate to have, and I can’t blame my peers for shunning me the way that they did; I wouldn’t of particularly wanted to hang out with myself either. I would often misunderstand jokes and get angry because I thought my classmates were making fun of me, and if someone purposefully misunderstood something I said I would get furious beyond belief. It just seemed like I couldn’t get my act together, and I can understand that I must of been unpleasant to be around. It affects me to this day.

I tried to become funnier, not seem so horrible to be around, sadly I was reading a lot of manga and watching a lot of anime when I was around 11-12, so what I picked up was that angry females shouting really over-the-top things was funny. So if one of the guys from my class stole one of my manga books I would often run after them shouting stuff like “I’M GONNA BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF YOU!”. I thought it was meant to be comical, but came to realize that it was, in fact, very much not so.

As I got older I became more aware of my surroundings, and how people couldn’t know the intent behind my actions without me expressing said intention. My anger issues only seemed to grow though as I entered my teenage years, they were really explosive at that point, and the guys in my class thought it was hilarious to tease and taunt me until I was absolutely livid. They never knew that the times they pushed me too far I’d run away and hide so that I could cry, because I felt so unseen and unheard. I didn’t feel like I had any worth as a person. I was even doubting that I was a person. I felt more like an alien, or a robot, who couldn’t understand human interaction in the innate manner that my peers did, and that it also made it fair game for people to treat me like I was less than human.

I didn’t have any friends nearby to turn to and talk about how I felt, the only friend I could really of claimed to have ended our friendship by letting me know that she didn’t want to become a social outcast, like I was. I can’t blame her. She had her own problems and insecurities, it wouldn’t of been fair to expect her to shoulder my problems as well.

Instead I found people to talk to on the internet, people who didn’t try to make me angry and weren’t trying to point out my every flaw and failure. For the first time in a long time I felt like I really could be me, the happy and caring person that I wanted to be, not the ball of rage and fury that my classmates and family got to see. I felt like I could finally express some of the things I felt without instantly being doubted and ridiculed for it. I got addicted to it, and my attendance at school took a major hit for it, as did my grades. Don’t take me saying that I got addicted to it to mean that what I found was a bad thing, quite the contrary, it was really good for me. It became so important to me because it was the one thing that gave me joy, that gave me a reason to get up every day.

When I was among my friends online, roleplaying and chatting about things we liked, I didn’t feel like I was waiting for the next argument to start, I wasn’t constantly anticipating that someone was gonna give me an unsolicited ‘real talk’ about how I’m fucking up. For once I felt like I got to relax and have people see me for me.

The truth is that throughout school I had no idea what I was doing, I felt like I was in a play where everyone had gotten the script, except for me, and I kept getting my lines wrong, and no one seemed willing to give me a helping hand, only scold me for my fuck ups.

It’s kind of funny… some of the people who bullied me said that I was disturbed, and they were actually the ones closest to the truth. I was disturbed, there was something wrong with me, but it kept being written off as me being lazy and difficult just for the hell of it.

When I got my autism diagnose I wasn’t sure what to feel, relief in a sense that I knew what my problem was now, and could better deal with it going forward. Another part of me was angry, furious even, that the people who were meant to guide me and help me through life, my parents and my teachers, had all failed me, and then blamed me for the problems that followed.

In my teens I felt like something was wrong with me, I was certain that something was off because I didn’t feel like I was like my peers. It was something subtle, like I worked on a slightly different wavelength, and that everything I heard and everything I said came through with slight, but important, difference. But whenever I expressed the need to see someone I was met with a myriad of questions that all boiled down to the word “Why?”, and clearly “Because I feel like something is wrong with me.” wasn’t a specific enough answer to satisfy those I spoke to.

I think the thing that hurts the most is that it feels like everyone in my surroundings had such an easy time just assuming the worst about me, instead of considering any other possibilities. I know they had no reason to give it more thought, but it still hurts when I think about the impression I must have left on those people that I spent 9 years of my life with.

But… if I could say anything it’d be this: I’m sorry, none of you deserved to be exposed to the kind of person I was growing up. I know my temper could be frightening, and I’m sorry that I didn’t know how to control myself. Those were, after all, my problems, and you shouldn’t of had to deal with them.

I'm here, alone, staring at the words I'm writing as I try to understand my own feelings. I feel so empty inside and despite my best efforts I cannot seem to fill that void. Lonely, I feel like I'm constantly standing on the sideline, gazing forward at everyone else, the collective, them.

I leer at them as I fall deeper and deeper into the hole within myself, spiralling into a sense of isolation so strong there is a constant threat of tears breaking through my facade. Am I being dramatic? No doubt. Are these feelings real to me? No doubt. And though I feel them so clearly I am left at a loss as to what to do, looking up towards the exit to this hole I'm in as I try to find the answer, but I'm stumbling over my own feet as I trip through the darkness I'm in. I cannot find an answer, even though I know the feeling I crave. I wish to be a part of something. A part of everyone else. The collective. Them.

But how do I know if I am? Maybe I already am? My mind swirls and drowns in the questions, ponderings and wonderings of my own curiosity and uncertainty; What does it feel like? Could you ever describe it? Am I capable of feeling it?

I'm here, alone, staring at the words I'm writing as I try to understand my own feelings. As I try to understand everyone else. The collective. Them. But I feel as if I might as well be from a different planet, as if my mind works on a different frequency, and I speak in a different language, attempting to monkey the words and phrases of others, hoping that I'm understood, and hiding when I think I'm not. So I hide, in my home, in my clothes, in my chair, behind the frozen expression that keeps my sadness inside, like the calm ocean surface above the violents currents below.

And all the while I long to be part of something, to finally grow up, break out of my cocoon and move freely in the world. But as I look in the mirror and see a figure in make-up, flowing hair and nice clothes I am terrified, as if I'm moving too quickly, as if I'm gonna be caught and condemned for my treacherous attempts to be an ordinary person. "You're not an ordinary person" my head tells me. "You're still that awkward toad of a child that you've always been, and always will be." The chubby child who got angry at the smallest of things, who was clumsy, slow-minded, jejune and who seemed to want everything, but in reality wanted just one; to be loved for who she was...

"You don't deserve to be loved, you don't deserve to be liked, and anyone who sees you knows that you are a blundering mess. They know that you don't belong with them, that you are simply something wrong with the world. A mistake of mother nature, a glitch in the code, a piece without a puzzle. And if anyone treats you kindly? It's because your trickery has fooled them, but sooner or later they'll realize what you are. You're not even good enough to be a freak, you're simply something that shouldn't of been."