Sleepy, Bewildered, Confused

!! This blog is 18+ !!

ALL original character posts are tagged with "Scrunkly" regardless of if they are writing/art. Me just talking gets tagged "Princely Decrees".

♡ I don't content warn posts, so the list below is my best attempt at a content warning for the entire blog. ♡

Watching people play outside, playing together, having fun.

I want to be outside too. I want to play and I want to have fun, too.

But there's something wrong with the way I play. Something I can't understand, something I can't see, Something I can't hear, and it exists beyond what my physical body and mouth are doing.

I've asked so many questions, I've tried so so hard to see it or hear it.

I want to understand why people get scared of me and run away.

I've tried so hard to behave around it, or to hide it, or even just warn people outright that it's there.

I want to understand why people get angry at me and insist I've hurt them by not knowing how to play.

I've sought out just about everything I can. Therapists have told me that I should be accomodated, books say that it helps when other people know to not expect you to inherently understand the rules of the games, podcasts are all about accepting your inability to play as a unique experience, and articles do a little bit of all this at once while also suggesting you see a certified and experienced play-therapist who can teach people like you how to play (If you can find one who serves Adults).

I want to understand the world around me.

I want to play too.

But I can't.

No one can understand, because someone who doesnt know how to play doesnt exist.

I'm told to self reflect on why I dont know how to play but it only leaves me upset and confused and not knowing how to parse or apply any of the information I've been given.

Kindergardeners play better than me, and no one seems capable of even coming close to just understanding that my playing just looks differently.

Trying to imitate other's play styles leaves me exhausted, paranoid, and hollow. And I still don't even do it right. People still get mad at me. or scared. Usually a little of both.

I try so hard, and it's never enough. It keeps me up at night, it makes me feel broken, it makes me feel stained, it makes me feel dangerous, it makes me feel unloveable.

So here I am, sat at my windowsill. watching other people play.

There's something, both harrowing and horrifying, about having the rug of comfort pulled from under your feet and to realize you are never ever for your whole entire life going to be able to understand the world enough for it to stop insisting you are saying or doing things you are absolutely not saying or doing. People find your practice of the invisible magics offensive, but you do not know or understand the invisible magics. You never have.

There's something, both harrowing and horrifying, about looking at someone whose swimming in the lake and realizing that even though they could swim to shore; they insist you learn to swim with your lead feet. They say you don't have to be good at it, they say you can doggie paddle, but when you say "I can't do that, I sink every time, one day i'll drown" they say "but you can try!"

There's something, both harrowing and horrifying, about realizing that the entire world around you wants you to dump endless effort into a bottomless void to attempt to appear like you can understand something that you will never ever for your whole entire life be able to so much as touch, let alone grasp.

There's something, both harrowing and horrifying, about spending over a decade, infact about two, of your life pouring endless time and effort into attemping to obtain the unobtainable only to find that no, you are not allowed to stop trying. It doesn't matter how low you feel, how deeply you hurt, how lost you are, how much you observably, demonstrably, objectively cannot fucking obtain this skill that the gods gave everyone on the fucking planet except for you.

You must try anyways, so says the world, because YOU are the odd one out. It is YOU who is incomprehensible. It is YOU who is impossible to understand. It is YOU who must learn to percieve the invisible magics rather than have your physical materials be understood as they are. You cannot see the invisible magics. Everyone can see your physical materials.

You polish the materials. You're extremely careful about how they're presented. You have systems and failsafes set up for replacing materials. You try so very hard to tweak your materials to have perfect edges and clean lines. You always collect new ones to help others understand you. It's not enough. It never will be.

There's something, both harrowing and horrifying, about being haunted by what you cannot percieve or understand, about being haunted by the desire to just stop torturing yourself already because everyone can see your materials just fine, about being haunted by the understanding that your materials will never be understood by their own textures and colors and shapes no matter what you do.

Happy Make A Terrible Comic Day!

I'm fucking tired of being expected to be cold everywhere i fucking go :) I want to start killing and maiming people who help make every building ice fucking cold :) I can't exactly just Not Go To Work so maybe I should be able to have a mini space heater hmmm?

Go on stupid little allistic you can do it, you can use logic and reasoning to understand that if my hands aren't literally going numb then I'll be MORE productive at work BECAUSE THEN I CAN KEEP TYPING! You can do it!