When I was ten, people wondered how I knew so much about the world around me, how I was so smart and mature about things deemed minuscule and not taught in schools. People wondered, how was this kid able to pronounce a very long word in a foreign language so fluidly....
.....I had autism and ADHD. But nobody knew that. They deemed my love for video games, 'stupid' TV shows, and books abnormal. I was teased, ridiculed and was almost diagnosed with bipolar disorder until people found out you cannot read nobody like a book, you cannot judge a person by their cover. I had depression for two years, and nobody noticed it or did anything about it. I laid on my bed, on the sofa, and every day, for two years: 'Mom, I'm depressed.' 'Mom, I feel sad.' 'Mom, I feel empty.' 'Mom, I want to die.' 'Mom, I want to get ran over by a car.' 'Mom, I want to stab myself with a knife, over and over and over.' And her responses were 'But you have no reason to feel sad. You have a warm house, good food, a TV, a gaming console, and me. You have no reason to feel sad.' And my mom did not do anything about it until I stopped moving out of the road while riding my bicycle, fully wanting to get run over, despite how painful it would be. So she got me a shitty councilor. Keyword: Shitty. Nothing helped until she took a risk and put me on an 'ADHD' drug, which I cannot spell the name of. At least I don't feel sad, empty, or suicidal anymore. But that does not mean memories don't haunt me. I have many horrible memories that I do not want to talk about. Seeing or thinking of belts makes this horrible anxiety and panic feelings fill my stomach, because I used to get whipped with a belt by my grandpa, who would call me a mentally retarded, disobedient brat when he had to pick me up from school because I was having 'scary' breakdowns, which he had no right to say, because if I put myself in the shoes of a random person, compared to one of my meltdowns, my grandpa whipping me was much worse. Last summer, I saw a man spanking his kid with his hand far scarier then seeing a random kid in this counseling place throwing legos and paper-back books. Don't just assume that you know everything about a person, because that kid in class who draws pictures of abuse may be the one with problems far worse then if your favorite sports team wins or someone ruins your nail polish. Because sticks and stones may break your bones, but.. Things may leave psychological trauma that will never heal.
