I have two facts for you that exist in my mind -
1. I am normal
2. I do not 'feel' normal
I have never considered myself to be normal.
I knew i wasn't normal when at the age of eight after my Dad left my school hired a counsellor just for me,
and i wasn't normal how after then i was the only pupil to be from a single parent family.
I wasn't normal when just after this abandonment my body entered early puberty,
and so feeling weird didn't stay a feeling, it became a reality.
Picked on for things out of my control, i felt like a freak.
Even at the age of eight, every aspect of my identity was up for scrutiny.
I knew i wasn't normal when in secondary school i would purposely get detentions
to spend time with teachers, because the the turmoil of the school yard was a teenage no man's land.
The company of those my own age is something i will never understand.
I knew i wasn't normal when i would hesistate in conversation when someone asked me who i fancied in my class.
The name of a random boy rolled from my tongue in an attempt to not blow my cover.
I knew i wasn't normal when my tweets coming out as bi were passed around like breaking news.
When i tried to defend myself in the interrogations, teachers would sternly say to me -
'That's not appropriate to be talking about in school' like my sexuality was a hushed secret, even though the straight girls were never silenced.
I knew i wasn't normal when i had to say i was bi, when in fact this was a lie. A lie to help me pass, pass and hold on to some straight privilege.
At the age of sixteen i questionned my worth and value as a person, trying to blame myself for the treatment i was subjected to.
I knew i wasn't normal when i decided to place my emotional pain onto a physical space, then patching up the damage as a form of ironic self-care.
I left school for a college, desperately seeking freedom from the constraints of a Catholic school.
I never felt comfortable in sixth form, being there my mind felt like a spinning waltzer i was strapped to for two years.
At seventeen i knew i wasn't normal when i was prescribed the maximum dose of sertraline, then mirtazapine, venlafaxine, fluoxetine.
By this point in my life i was on a tally of maybe six counsellors and two CBT therapists.
I knew i wasn't normal when i started to blame myself for the therapy not being successful. Maybe i was just meant to be depressed.
Changing my thinking styles, emotional regulation, journalling my feelings and triggers, i knew exactly what i had to do.
I knew i wasn't normal when i clung onto certin things as comfort, like my adoration for florence and the machine.
I started to experiment, toying between wanting to fit in and wanting to be myself, painting bright eyeshadow on my lids as a vibrant mask to carry me through.
I knew i wasn't normal when i reached out to the local crisis team experiencing auditory hallicinations, hearing sounds only meant for my ears.
My emotional states are a product of my trauma, which is difficult to navigate as the world's greatest performer.
Maybe i was meant to face this internal torment, or until now i hadn't considered i could be neurodivergent.

Who am I really?

What makes me...me?

What's true to my being

Versus what people see?


I'm a masked player

Up on the stage.

Open-minded

But set in my ways.


I'm tired, but restless.

Energetic, but fatigued.

I endure all the miles

to cope with my needs.


I live in the mountains.

But I was born by the sea.

Adobes and sand dunes

Are where my spirit flies free.


I molded a mind for mountains

But I've grown a coastal soul.

I find comfort in warmth

But I thrive in the cold.


I'm reserved, but friendly.

Instinctively shy, but kind.

Introverted from the start

But I edited my mind.


I seem to know everyone.

I was taught this was the goal

To be a socialite

And avoid being alone.


I'm a determined dreamer.

I strove to achieve

The expectations of others

But, I've found what I need.


I present as outdoorsy

But I'm a nature girl at heart.

How people may see me

Was wild from the start.


I animate and write.

I love creating art.

To make is my nature

Something I can't depart.


I'm beautiful

But I act pretty.

I'm goofy

But present as witty.


I'm passionate

but stoic.

I'm thoughtful

But overthink it.


I'm a philosopher who's distracted.

That's why I repeat.

I rewrite wisdom

To help guide my feet.


I act confident

But I was born insecure.

It took many years

To uncover my "normal" form.


I'm a willful wanderer.

I'm timid but tough.

I can trek so far

Not knowing what's enough.


I attach to attention.

I tend to crave more

Of the love people give me,

But detach from what's adored.


I want the consistency

Of a level and linear coastline.

But I crave the novelty

Of meandering mountains at times.


I'm a starving artist

Who feeds on motivation.

I'm here to support

But I need to be supported.


I'm creative

Because I struggle.

I'm strong

Because I'm weak.


I'm an explorer of mountain peaks.

Internally, I'm lost and curious.

I explore many things  

That pique my interest.


I'm easily overwhelmed

But I'm an adapter.

I'm disorganized

But I'm a planner.


I'm a mentor

But I could be someone's mentee.

I'm a good listener

But I need someone to hear me.


I'm sensitive and empathetic

But sometimes apathetic.

I'm emotional and kind.

But I often feel numb inside.


I want to be capable

But sometimes, I’m unable.

I'm so often sentimental

Because life is unstable.


I've shown submission

To disguise my difference.

I've circumvented confrontation

To achieve some acceptance.


I was a late bloomer.

But I've pruned and grew flowers,

Flowers grown to hide my thorns.

But I uprooted and found power.


It's hard to collect my thoughts.

But it's easy to collect things.

So much in life changes.

But my things remain the same.


My achievements alone do not define success.

My best effort is my success's foundation

Through my effort alone,

I am a champion.


I dislike change

But change means growth.

If I'm not growing

I'm dying at most.


I'm interesting

Because I'm different.

I'm unique

Because of my interests.


I'm forgetful

But I'm hard to forget.

I'm easily flustered

But I've learned to reset.


I love birds.

Because, I long to be free.

I want to fearlessly fly

To be freely me.


I'm easy to get along with

But once hard to understand.

Now I'm learning myself

To show who I really am.


I'm a wonderful ******.

Neurodivergent from the start.

I am awesomely Autistic.

And I have a good heart.

Once again the pressure is on.
I know I can succeed in anything I set my mind to,
I also know that I will eventually hurt myself.
My main worry is that
Everyone expects me to be this great person or to do amazing things.
What hurts is that I just wanted to be happy,
Relaxed,
Or able to be me. To be free without judgement of how I like building Lego’s or thinking I can do karate in Walmart but really I’m having fun.
For once I would like to not be ridiculed.
Or have high expectations set for me.
It’s exhausting.
High expectations are a challenge for me,
Challenges I find easy.
Eventually leading to burnout.
Then all of sudden I’m just a lazy ***.
There really is no pleasing anyone.
Only if I work myself to death exceeding any and all expectations.
Only if I push myself way beyond the normal persons breaking point and I just smile while I’m dead and rotting inside.
Sleep is fine,
Dreams are annoying.
Sleep is nice because I don’t have to hear the daily expectations.
I don’t have to mask my energy and act normal like everyone else.
Eventually I know I will break.
I just hope everyone sees that this is what happens when you expect the most from the one who will do it without hesitation.
It’s almost cruel yet they will never know because if they did then they would feel bad.
And that’s annoying.
I hate being blamed when all the signs where there,
They just can’t see them and choose to ignore the smallest ones they can see.
It’s a blessing and curse,
Being NeuroDivergent.
It’s something no one seems to understand,
I truly am…
Alone…

Blend all the elements
Including the oil and the salt
We are forming music in our mouths
And bucketing out our intuitions
We are frozen dancers masterfully
Balancing on our ageless appendages
Representing history is no easy gesture
It resembles splendor and spare apricots
Shared with our neighbors across fences
With our fingers we reach out
For our prejudices to touch gently
I am elegantly amused
At all your beautiful reductions
How were you so easily deconstructed
Into a web of beauty and butterflies
You may be used to this situation
But it's probably worth mentioning
That no matter how hard we try
We're all going to lose someone eventually
So let's play this time for keeps
Until we can ****** ourselves into letting go of everything
I fold my hands and return to the snow
Long ago from the stars beyond our reach
We inhaled and drew our first breath
From the heart of the darkness
We made our pledge that life
Shall always be a bargain against death
So now we take our chances
With some depth and determination
I am returning to my origins
Along the road to our sovereignty
I am as red as an active volcano
And we are bred to behave like family
In rows along the edges of our insanity
I digress and repress memory and emotion
So many are left and we don't know
Exactly where we’re going
So we collapse space into shapes
That are worth carefully observing
Let's blend our blood and our breath
And trust in the graceful scent of roses
We will make mistakes filled with yearning
Collecting learning like seashells
Along the shoreline of the morning
That we are born triumphantly blinded
As a reminder of neurological divergence

Normal.
adjective, 2 syllables, and the ultimate struggle.
"Just be normal"

And I still love each and every one of you.
From the ****** to the harlots, the housewives, single mothers and emo creamsicles.
The scene chicks with the big hair always held a hold on my chest.
Dyed hair, whiskey and cigarettes.
Play another round, let's stay a while and place another bet.
The house is losing at last, so goodbye to all of you.
An **** subsides, the **** of a nation's replaced the pornstars.
I've got horns on from the things I've done to you, for you and with you.
A latina *** is sleeping in my bed and there's a Colombian marching band playing through my head.
There's only so many pikes to fit these holes and hoist my severed visage.
I'm a wizard but not the grand type; more Gandolf the grey, country white boy neurodivergent.
The city's gone now there's a kitten in my bed, with her *** in the air and the smell of **** and *** in the air.
There's an animalistic, cannibalistic streak to the violence between our touches.
I'm a rough **** hungover from a trip down suicide lane again;
At least it's more ideation and less action;
But ain't that my problem these days anyway?
I miss the dyed hair, the tattoos and the things I'mma do to you.
Let's hurry up this solo-death and spill ****** fluids across the canvas again, lover one.

Do you remember
Chorlton and the wheelies?
Through the mist
It comes quite freely
But probably not that accurately
My friend

There was an angry
Welsh Witch
Cruel but unarousing
Like a some Marxist
Maggie Thatcher
On the prowl
But Chorlton was
Neurodivergent
To him it was not urgent
To seek vengeance on blodwyn
To make her howl.
But that only made her worse
To spit bile and curse
Which always led to her downfall



Clearly he won every week

She had the finest **** I told her

When you're alone at 2am, isolated and riddled with neuroticism and neurodivergent tendencies
a little company is satisfying .
I had no real intention of sleeping with her but I liked the idea of being wanted so I let my mind wander
and hers too