bright lights, background noise
all blurs into one big wall
my brain can’t process
all these things at once
I stare at other girls
copy their mannerisms
hiding myself
from the outside world
when I get home
I run into my room
take of this mask that I’ve worked so hard
to develop
only to hide everything about myself
everything that makes me me
just so I don’t get laughed at
made fun of
again
I feel like an alien
dropped down on an unfamiliar earth
having to fit in
pretending to be like everyone else
but not understanding
a single thing
sarcasm, cues, it’s all bologna
where are these rules written
give me the book
I’ll study it forever and still not get it
but at least I’ll seem normal
right?
I stop myself when I get too excited
my dad gives me a weird look
when I talk about the brain
an infinitely complex ***** that contains our whole life
my body is a mere appendix
I tell my friends about Latin etymology
did you know the hippocampus is named after the seahorse?
I hold my hands tightly
to prevent myself from shaking them around
like I want to
social hierarchy
what is it
how does it work and how do you know it
how many seconds do I stare into your eyes
my seven-two rule I sometimes despise
I immerse myself in fictional worlds
observing the characters
how they talk smile and move
taking notes
making flashcards
all to appear
normal
did it work?
it must have, right?
been fooling everyone for sixteen years
and it’s taking its toll
on me
it’s hard
it was easier when I was a kid
you just play beside another kid
but now there are rules I have never learnt
sarcasm is more prevalent
just smile and laugh right?
but what if you can’t even identify it
always never enough
criticism is my worst enemy
my grades have to be perfect but why
why
I’m the smartest person in any room
I’ve ever been in
but I have to appear normal
normal
neurotypical
allistic
hiding myself
but why
imagine a world where everyone
was like me
and this mask would never
even have existed
there would be no stress
I’d already fit right in
perfectly
no mask
no hiding
flapping my hands and talking
about the brain
about moths
about criminal minds
without judgement
it sounds like a dream
it actually was
but this world is far more difficult
I walk through a mall shutting myself in
because if I don’t I’ll explode
I close my eyes right as the bright flood lights pierce my brain
I smile as the background noise hits me like a wall of unfamiliar loud pain
I hide it well
sometimes
after a while it gets bad
I run and find a dark store
a worker asks me what do you need today
I run back out and feel bad for days
people talking, coins rattling
it all blends together
I can’t imagine a world
where it doesn’t
where my parents would let me
wear my headphones
without taunting me
a world where I have never been called
*******
stupid
******
loser
sensitive
from everyone
I can mask well
and that’s my downfall
because nobody ever notices
how hard I struggle
deciphering these looks
their tone of voice
they’re joking right?
years later I realize they weren’t
they were making fun of me
but you see
I wouldn’t change my brain
believe it or not
it is who I am
the feeling of telling people about my interests, watching my favourite tv shows, happy stimming, listening to music, my near perfect memory, recognizing patterns in everything
it’s a blessing and a curse
but it’s who I am
I couldn’t imagine life without the excitement and passion I have now
the feeling of flapping my hands and jumping
nothing beats that
the brain blur and tingle
the dopamine flooding my brain
it can be good
even if the bad is still there
this world wasn’t designed for me
and I’m starting to realize that
it was designed to exclude me
other people must look at me and think wow
she’s so strange
but I’m thinking the same about them
they walk around and go to parties
how are you? I’m doing well, how are you?
it’s nonsensical
I’ve learned to copy them
but at what cost
is losing myself worth it all
unmasking is incredible
but it can be dangerous
the bullying, the criticism
even from your own parents
can sting
everything I’ve ever been called as an insult
I remember it
I remember it all
I wish people could understand
I’m not Sheldon Cooper
I’m not a robot
I probably have more emotion than you
I show it differently
I put on this mask to prevent hate
from this society
that is so ableist
sixteen years of my life I’ve fooled everyone
I wish I could go back and start over
be the little alien I felt like inside
not worry about the monsters
because they weren’t under my bed
they were everywhere else

Calamity is the new platform to prove your worth....

people always told me to hold onto the spark but it only ever got me in trouble
neurosis crawling up my spine and stunting the growth just below my neck

I am stunted, those boys in baggy school blazers and leather shoes will grow into men and I've barely got an inch on them

a savant of sorts, sure, but I'm not a child anymore
my ways hold me back; my ways hold me down

the spark I was told to to hold on ever so tightly, it hurts peoples eyes and burns their fingertips

I will not grow
I will only die down and submit to
the natural elements

disintegrate along with the vapour of the candle when it burns out

i'm there for you if you allow it..

early it came,where there are no roads, no silent killer.

spinning. set me free. let me see  swallows return to

nest.

let us cause a reaction, turn our heads quickly. no one

is looking, there is no one here. we are not afraid of

the night.

we spin.

soft cottons, whimsy thread, mothlike.

turn about hour on hour. your time is

come.

we spin.

to spite  silent killers.

sbm.

(written for those with out understanding)

asd

gift

Every year about 800 000 people lose the constant war they have with themself. A stranger to you, someone who meant nothing, but that someone once was somebody else's everything.

Our mental illnesses and disorders have been so overly glorified and romanticized in today’s media, music, and social media. It has become desirable and trendy, and it’s making me sick.
Our problems weren’t discovered, closely studied, monitored, and used to give us an answer to the questions why, when, and how, just for some teens to use it as a way to evoke shame and make fun of someone.
There are over 171, 476 words used in the English language, 10,000 adjectives, 2,123 adverbs, 46 conjunctions, 77 interjections, 17,450 nouns, 26 particles, 39 prepositions, 17 pronouns, and 5,986 verbs. I bet there are a bunch of other adjectives to call your friend when they “go crazy”.
So please stop using our chemical imbalances and the result of years of traumas because you need to feel unique.

No, we aren’t okay with you using our pain and struggles as a way for you to feel edgy and special.
“I Am NoT lIkE oThEr GiRlS” No, you are lying to yourself and
others by faking and exaggerating your anxiety and your depression because it’s “SO ROMANTIC WHEN A BOY SAVES YOU”.

But truth be told;
Kissing your partner's scars isn’t adorable.
Saving someone from a suicide attempt doesn’t make you a brave hero.
Anxiety disorders don’t transform you into a poor struggling soul needing someone to save you.
Depression never turned me into a misunderstood beautiful flower, someone who’s fragile and needs protection.
Bipolar disorder is so extremely much more than “just mood swings”;
When I have a manic episode it doesn’t mean I am suddenly super productive.
Dealing with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) is not “so cool or so crazy” it’s best explained as living in an unpredictable nightmare, but you can not wake up.
Being paranoid is not cool, you are in a constant fight or flight mode, and you are thinking something bad will happen any second.
Having Anorexia is not the same thing as just skipping breakfast one morning.
Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) is not a “gift or superpower” you suddenly wanted to give to yourself with no right to do so.
Having social anxiety is not quirky, it’s debilitating.
Succeeding or failing a Suicide attempt won’t make all of your bullies suddenly stop being bullies and make them feel guilty.
Obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) is not the same as liking it when things are organized.
Bulimia is not a diagnosis you should aspire to get, you won’t turn into a beautiful thin person, you will turn into a dying mentally unstable wreck.
Being diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) doesn’t equal not knowing how to make friends and enjoying being alone.
No, You don’t have Tourette Syndrome (TS), I have never heard of a TS type where you only have trouble with “vocal tics” when someone is not doing what you ask them to. You simply just lack manners and have no idea how to read a room, your parents failed to turn you into a decent human being and you just don’t feel like working on it.
Insomnia is a lot more than staying up 1 out of 7 days a week because you “did not feel tired and was too bored to stay in bed”.
Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSD) is not ******* easy to live with and doesn’t mean you are weak.
My daddy issues are not **** or make me a freak in bed.                          
Schizophrenia and other psychotic disorders are not “Only hearing and seeing things”.
Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD) doesn’t mean someone is coldhearted and evil.
Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) is not the same as having different personalities with different friend groups.
Addicts are not weak, dumb, or “only have themself to blame.”
Being burned out doesn’t equal you thinking school or work is boring.

To even get evaluated we often have to fight for years until we find a psychiatrist who takes us seriously. Some of us find ourselves dumbfounded by the answers to the questions we have had to deal with for years and stuff we thought everyone dealt with.
Others are not that lucky and have to do most of the work themself, they find out what is wrong after thoroughly reading every article on PubMed, MedScape, and WebMD they can find. Because, honestly, psychiatrists do **** sometimes.

Society has been fetishizing our mental illnesses and disorders for way too long.
You see my crazy as **** and desired until my crazy pops up out of thin air and ends with wounds, blood, traumas, antipsychotics, and paramedics.
We get belittled, invalidated, and have our symptoms dulled down because people get off to them.
I am not your manic pixie dream girl or your Harley Quinn.
If the “type” of people you get attracted to is mentally unstable girls with daddy issues, a chemical imbalance, and a lack of impulse control, you are a part of the problem.

Also, Meghan Markle won’t see the embarrassing Facebook posts you write about how you don't believe she was “really suicidal and only wanted attention”, but your suicidal friends will.

You know who’s not laughing at your jokes about how people who died or were lucky enough to survive their suicide attempt are weak and how they “took the easy way out”? Your best friend who’s barely holding on, or maybe it’s your little sister tempted by the bottle of pills in her hand, or maybe, just maybe, it’s your lover who locked themself in the bathroom and is currently gasping for air on the cold tile floor because they would rather go through their panic attack completely alone than having to ask for your help. Is your joke still funny?

We are asked: “have you ever considered how your mental illness makes ME feel? How much you are hurting me?
And yes we have. We worry about that every single day of our life. And every single hour we spend awake we are overwhelmed with the feeling that our loved ones would be so much better off if we just died, but thank you, from the bottom of our hearts for your contribution. There is nothing we love more than being reminded of how much of a burden we are.

I swear we aren’t monsters. The friends I have who are dealing with mental illnesses are some of the kindest, most selfless, and caring people I have ever had the fortune to meet. We have nothing in common except for our serotonin deficiency and we bond through our traumas.
We try our hardest to heal other broken people because we know what rock bottom feels like.
We calm them down and distract them from the breathtaking panic attacks and overpowering suicidal thoughts visiting them at 3 am, because we all know way too well how easy it is to slip in and out of your head, and how it feels to lose touch with reality.
We stay up throughout the night to keep each other safe and breathing because deep down we are all just a bunch of suicidal kids telling other suicidal kids that suicide isn’t the answer.
We check-in and remind each other to eat, take our meds and stay hydrated.
We repeatedly prove the voices in our friends' heads wrong, while we listen blindly to our own demons believing every cruel and damaging lie they feed us.
We are lost kids looking for someone to call our own and somewhere to call home.
We were all raised being told by either our mom or dad or some other adult to not talk to strangers online, because they are dangerous, and they would ruin our lives.
But my mom and dad couldn’t have been more wrong, because when I met strangers online, I didn’t find danger, I found a family.
I have felt love stronger than anything you will ever experience in your life.
We love like we have nothing to lose because we truly have nothing to lose.
We have each other’s backs and we proved that family doesn’t have to be blood.
I am forever grateful towards the ones who stuck around, and to the new ones that life brought to me. The ones who have seen me relapse probably a thousand times but never lost hope, and the ones who were never meant to stay forever. I will always have you back.

What I am trying to tell you with all of this is that we are all fighting for dear life to survive, some of us are so close to falling off the deep end all they need is one small event to tip over, and then we have those who lost their battle, who are gone but never forgotten, taken from us along the road to the place we are today, those the sickness quickly and carelessly took from us, and at the same time robbed the world of the most beautiful people we have ever met.
The world wasn’t ready for you yet,
Alexa

cosy (title): modo+ (body), for a 502 error bypass... otherwise, the original text:

alrerst quichp: which is a googlewhack, i need to nod off, seriously... people, in general, are not worth my seriousness, not enough to begin with; all is done on a whim, on a... m'eh .

i cry at this mere thought,
the crucified one of Golgotha didn't die for
my "sins"...
what were we, gentiles, even the Greeks
among us, without knowledge of the "father"?
haunted by the depths of Siberia,
having left the welcoming Raj & its mangos...

he didn't die for my sins, or anyone's sins...
the secretive nature of the Hebrews:
exposed, came in a fully formed revelation
via one man's suffering under:
preposterous conditions:
that never, will never, match up...
even if Socrates was an old man...
he was implored to drink poison:
but never would he have been tortured prior
to an execution that became a second torture...

dearest brother... what you endured...
to give other men insight into your deity,
that swallowed up the minor deities
of the Canaanites... how Beelzebub became
an angel... almost like: faux pas...
the ugliness of Michael being demoted from
status of angel to a saint,
or fisherman Peter becoming a saint...
men on equal grounding with angels...
men without ambitions to be gods?!
what horrors in the metaphysical realm
must have unfolded in the past 2000 years...

but it's clear as sight allows...
as light beckons, as shadows swallow said light,
we have been illuminated...
tell me another story, one more fiction
than history,
a history where Charlemagne took interest
in literacy... no, you will not...
there have been other famous leaders
who bypassed stressing the need
for literacy, not the genius: not Sejong...
the world doesn't celebrate him enough...
the myths are true!
he lived in the prosperity of what could
be deciphered as "modern" times...
1400s circa, i don't remember the exact dates...
but Sejong gave the Koreans
their Hangul... their written script...

of all the eastern texts, beside the Sanskrit...
Hangul matches up to Katakana,
unlike Ezra Pound:
i'm not fascinated by Chinese ideograms...
the European counterpart
of emoticons, borrowed from
Egyptian hieroglyphs have already
explained the route, the story for me, enough...

but the Hebrew deity is:
such a spectacular phonetic environment to
meditate in, esp. since it was so benevolent
to not undermine the Latin script...
the Latin alphabet survived,
more! it became armed with diacritical markers:
excluding those who only speak English...
truly... you can hide the already pre-prepared surd
of an H attached to the S in English
via the caron: more than / less than pointing
south... Engliš... hell... you could intoxicate yourself
further, to break down the words to atoms
within the confines of phonetics...
you could make N a surd too!

  by?  attributing the E with a tail,
a cedilla most associated with the French C...
which makes it a sigma...
i.e. Ęgliš... it ought to be a well established
knowledge that the Hebrews hide their
vowels, even though, Aleph is a sort of vowel...
use the prefix and suffix guise un-entanglement
of the Greek: alpha becomes a-lpha...
beta becomes b-eta...
   omicron becomes: o-micron...

the crucifixion of hey-zeus only gave the gentiles
access to the Hebrew deity...
is the deity such a horrible deity,
did the "father" do less damage to the deities of
lesser Semites than the "son" that sowed
havoc among the pagan traditions,
gone an Odin, bowing,
gone the Zeus, bowing...

in the beginning was the word,
und: am anfang da war das wort...
   nichts anders! lasst uns: rückkehr...
bezahlen unser fällig huldigung!

we have been invited through suffering...
such a deity as the tetragrammatom...
H to H... rugby posts...
W for an M for... trigonometry...
cosine and sine...
Y for for serpent's tongue, split,
bilingual, schizoid or?
the corner of a cube...

my interpretation is in "Latin"... it must be...
but look at what happened to cuneiform!

now Islam appeals through violence,
through terror, it will never appeal to my sensibilities,
nor the past of the people i inherited the present
with... Islam is a horrid plagiarism of Judaism...
i'll just break down the deity's denote:
all?! ah!
if only that was a relief...
god of the scythe moon and the supposed star
of the planet Venus in the guise, fakery...
Islam will never appeal to me...
Islam can burn in the abyss...
even the story of the fall of Satan...
if (i hallucinate the word dajjal while
writing this) Satan didn't bow before
Adam upon Adam's creation...
if i were Adam... i'd tease Satan's vanity...
i'd bow before him...
why? it would spare me having to keep him
in the back of my mind, resurrect him
with horror images of the inferno...
then again... if i didn't draw pictures
of dragons in the medieval period of my late
infancy... could i have later found...
dinosaur remains, or would i be merely satiated
by the remaining lizards on this earth?

for ****'s sake, why are the minorities so
******* offended?

why are all the racial minorities so, *******,
sensitive...
everyone is either racist or sexist...
at work...

you hear something equivalent to:
i don't know how i managed to watch the women's
world cup in football....
a black woman retorts: you're sexist...
what an a priori distinction to make:
no... they're tinier in size...
if they managed to get a girl,...
that might also play volleyball in goal...
what' the point explaining...
i'm sexist, i'm racist: de facto...
**** the minorities...
to hell with them!
then again... i'm a ****** living in
England, oh, right, i'm a white male...
i can't possibly be... **** the minorities!

i, am, tired... of living, with, these, people,
so, much, more... arguing, with, them...
let, them, ****, let them, experience,
"superiority" complexes...
i, am, not, DNA... investing... *******!
brighten up your tomorrow
by giving sensitivity classes to...
oh... wait... only the supposed minorities left...
well: ******* well done!
sensitive bunch of *******-****** Pakis;
ooh... ooh... hurt feelings...
thank the flying **** my ***** wasn't part
of the post-colonial project that England's now
part of... i guess something was reiterated...
look how the Polish-Lithuanian
Commonwealth dissolved...
**** me... these aren't my girls getting ****** in
the ***...
sure... as a steward... at an event...
but... what are the chances that the Manchester bombing
could have been prevented...
if some of the stewards...
if all of the stewards didn't have
racial affiliations to the bombers?!

none... none... whatsoever, best sacrifice your
daughter than fear of being labelled a racist...
fair enough... bell's at toll, or, rather: counting
the tally of your... mistakes...
ahem... "sensibilities": oh, but you must mind
them as also being towed!

either a PIGS or a WASP...
is that how the world functions?
****'s sake...
        then... i don't want to bring any
children of my own into this.. ****-show...
no... i'm fine....
  the world can go **** itself silly...

- did i dream up the term: Pakistan?
i don't think i have, or had...
Asian Dub Foundation have the lyrics:
no Iraqi ever called me a ****..
****-? oh, the hyphen is required reading,
it denotes the term ****
as a prefix...
i'm with the English, i'm sort of,
rather than: i am sort of: lazy...
when speaking, i sometimes mumble,
although i shouldn't: should not...
ha ha ha...
you wouldn't call (would not)
call an Afghani / Afghan an... Afghanistani...
would you?
or an Iraqi an Iraqistani?
would you?!
ooh... sensitive little creatures...
perhaps creatures, perhaps nothing more than
caricatures... perhaps just...
lesser tans of ****...
****** variations of cinnamon,
or cumin or... em... coriander powder?!
maybe all three? pack-up-the-****...
i want to sharpen my teeth on something...
but that load of **** i don't want
to bite... n'ah... i rather pair up
with a dog's canine...
this sort of *******
i'd rather sink down a toilet...

- sure, call me milk toast etc.
i'm not the one being overtly sensitive over
words that people of racial minorities
don't own, since they didn't invent them!

too drunk to see the letters....
too drunk to mind the barriers....
to begin with,
long be gone the despotism of minor
and minorities...
for the majority rule,
for the majority are tantamount:
for future, for preservation,
for, tactic...

no one mentioned the Rotherham gangs
of the ultimate PAK... do they?
prefix distinction missing, or sonrthing?
you will never say Afghan
when stating Afghanistan, will you?
YOU WILL STATE: AFGHANISTANI...

curiously defect, curiously: WEAK PAKIs...
term red: red...
    you might asd well recite:
Bengali... Bengal (people)
when citing: Bangladesh...
why...  add Bangladeshi... is there a suffic
-stan to be invoked...
lazily... ****... because i don't feel like
expressing the fuller: -stani!
savvy? no... with these people there is no
******* "savvy"...

there's either a foot in the face,
or there's a... shove their face in my aas
and take a sniff...
your skin colour almost resembles the hue
of the **** i **** out...
how's that?!

it takes two to tango... how's this tango?
******* whiplash... you sorted,
the proper imam squidgy plush?

sensitive little creatures...
can **** little white girls...
but can't stand being called a ****-,
note the hyphen, so it denotes
a prefix...
what a load of insensible little people
that will crowd the earth with
their little ideas...
what a glorified reinvention
of the gods... some of us must have become
too smart for the gods to jest...
i have to see it that way...
the dodo project...
wee became too smart,
too individualistic...
no one, except me:
invited the existence of the demigod Solipsism:
Sisyphus... Solipssus...
except me...
       no, this art, this architecture...
my own doesn't exactly matter, why should
i leverage a back-log of paintings/ ideas?!
let it burn, let it burn!
let's revise... we need to revise...
we've become too complacent...
to begin with...
i think it's necessary, mind you...
all the white girls are expecting a ***** flick of
itemizing phallus sizes...
if they're not... probably *****... or ignored...
thirdly: i stopped caring...
do i, own her? do i, pay for her?
well, none of the stressed above...
she sees chocolate whenever and however she pleases...
why bother?

the lowest in the IQ spectrum will inherit the earth...
let them! i don't mind...
to hell with high IQ people...
listen, your work is done...
there's  no need to continue the agony...
let the people who can best be cloned endure...
let people who enjoy *** the most: endure...
let people be their own sort of people...
personally, i don't want to be part of this
sack of swinging *******...
do i care that Europe will become
a Reconquista 2.0 Project... eh... no...
**** it... let the idiots reproduce...
i'm sort of going to appreciate their universal
suffering... it always comes...
regardless of their shelf-life /
shelf-alloction... suffering is almost a pre-condition
of the human experiences....
funny, though... it will be made easier
knowing that some categorical synonym
is missing...
all the better... like all the better for me, now...
that i should be deemed undesirable
by them and my own elites...

my hands are open... my heart is freed...
such lesser creatures require such lesser concerns
that only enable them to preserve:
preserving themselves...
hardly any original idea / narrative will ever
be allowed to be shared by them...
i thank myself: for not having
to agonise my children with a lack of
the said above...
thank god, i was smart enough to not
replicate mistakes...
my mistakes are my own...
they will never belong to my child...

grace, by the gratefulness to be:
alone, and only alone to
replicate: its comfortability...
                  my heart: that i allow to sink...
when dropped into a mirror
of a lake...
oh! the splendour! rich or poor,
near or far apart!
what measure, that equates them
as equal "apart"...
          my "little" Hebrew deity of measure...
blind me: i will still see more clearly!