I don't know how old I was when I first learned that I had to shout 'fire' if someone tried to grab me.
I always thought that actually having a valid excuse to not talk to people would be a blessing. I was wrong.
It seems appropriate, on this World Mental Health Day, to admit that I'm struggling.
It was a crushing, overpopulated corner of hell, and I promised myself I would never go into the situation again unarmed.
I often hold my queerness hand in hand with my autism. They are what make me beautiful and unique. They are also what paints a target on my head.
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.