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Mar 4
I am "Josephine Wild."
I am 24 years old.
I am an artist.
I have a false sense of reality.
I wake up.
I work.
I pray.
And I eat.
Then I sleep.

I see things like design and shape.
I focus on the details.
I look at typefaces and fonts.
I like to work.
To make.
To create.
Day after day,
this is what I do.

I am never finished.
I date things
because I lose track of time.
Time is against me.

I make believe.
I make believe
because I am a child.
A child I am.
I live at home.
I sleep in the same room.
I sleep in the same bed.
I have toys and figurines.
I collect them.
They always stay the same.

I am easily distracted.
I like to escape.
I like to be alone
with my thoughts.
I am an artist.
I am weird.

I like people too.
They are beautiful
in that each
are unique
and their own.
It's nice to connect
with people.
But then
you don't want them to go.
I am alone.
I become cold.

In my own little world,
I am trapped.
I make it harder than it has to be.
My life isn't easy,
but it's a gift.
Life wouldn't be great
if it was so easy.
I'm easy to get along with,
but hard to understand.

I like music.
I like to sing.
The music I like doesn't need words.
I need words.
I search for them.
I need them quicker
than they can come.

I try my best.
I'm not perfect.
I have my faults.
I cling onto people.
I forget
to swallow my pride.

I don't think things through
or leave my comfort zone.
I don't want to cause problems.
I yearn to change.
I am changing my heart.
This was written 11 years before learning I am autistic.
Josephine Wild
Written by
Josephine Wild
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