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Is it okay,
That I don't really feel okay today?

Everyone else seemed real happy
But I just felt out of body.

Everything felt like too much,
And I couldn't stand the smallest touch.

...Is that okay?
Okay that I'm having a kinda bad day?
When I was a little kid
I compared my self to Bart
Simpsons as well as Albert Einstein
What a fine thing to say
But this was the driving force of
My actions
And reactions
To things that went on with this world
A gifted  but misunderstood human
I have become
Now I find out
What I had was not a curse
But the gift
Pixie Mar 6
There was no magic manual that was given when you gave birth to me
But if there was you would have failed miserably
Even if the answers were written in dark red ink
They wouldn't have given anyone time to think
That maybe the magic mannual that came for me is wrong
Because nothing is fixing me it's taking too long.

But if that magic mannual was real
It would tell them I didn't need fixed
If there was a guide book on how to help
It would tell them to breathe with me
If there were check lists on what to do
Would they have even gone through
With helping me or was I just the enemy

It shouldn't have taken a doctor
It shouldn't have taken a stay
It shouldn't taken anything
Besides them just spending one day
Talking to me helping me working with me side by side
I was too young to bare the weight of wanting to die

And that's why even if the magical manual did exist
My parents wouldn't care. They would be ******
That the efforts they were already exhausting wasn't enough
They didn't have the energy for me
They just wanted to use tough love.
But I was a fragile gentle child
Who needed a hug.

I know there's not a magical manual
And especially not for me
But why did my parents give up so tirelessly
When I was struggling endlessly
Complex and matter of factly.


My magic manual mediates the troubles in face.
If it were real maybe I would have gotten some grace.
My magical manual says it there in the fine print
This little girl came with a few dents.
I'm a spectator, maybe even an occasional commenter,
But my borders limit me.
The bubble, it magnifies everything,
And shifts waves so that I see all in a different light.

It's truly beautiful,
But you have to understand how my world view and experience is different from yours.
An ant to you can be a world to me.
Often, its too much,
But you think I'm just being dramatic.

Its isolating, to be trapped within it.
I can't quite reach out to others,
So I'm always just at the border.

I graze my fingers over the surface.
Just past it, normalcy.
I'm so close
Yet so
so
far.
Mimmi Feb 24
A core belief is a thing you can lean into with no second thought
You trust in it's way of leading you
Stretching those nerves
cracking knuckles to haunt your neighbor

Pearl bracelet hanging low, not even trying to hug your arm
Calming your fingers from picking at that hangnail
It’s an annoying habit with a millisecond of relief

Blisters from sharpening those pencils,
for a battle with your notebook.
Letters you don't know, when they'll attack, in what shape or form
A blister you'll have to work around, the angst gives you space for more hangnails picking

The space between your fingernail and your next endeavor is a leap of struggle
or a buffet of choices which in all realness is just a lot of overthinking as a slow road to insanity

My core belief is an quivering tree of question marks
I think it represents the mindset
to begin anything with a clean slate

Have no expectations, then you won’t be disappointed
And you get surprised if it's actually not bad
But as an overthinker with anxiety and autism I stand with the quivering tree of question marks
I begin with a silent question, who is even listening

Trying to catch phrases, pauses, looks, body language
And then the quivering tree switches the question marks to nests of information

Mental notes of things I think is important, learning later that I missed the main point
Maybe the jokes lands a bit late
It’s okay, I get there in the end

A tree is a main point for endless branches and leaves
The real gold is the process you can’t see
The roots
The roots with its wings that never sleeps
Constantly expanding, learning and growing even when others only sees what the tree lets it see

A core belief of
a pessimist
a lingering friendship
a healing wound
a riptide
Can't always keep up with this world. I feel lost and heavy with anxiety.
junie Feb 24
Eyes glued to my unlaced shoes,
Fingers picking at the skin I lose.
Friendly chatter pierces and flows,
Through the walls where my silence grows.

I think to myself — why couldn’t I be normal?

As I step out, a thousand glares pierce through me,
Seeping into my soul, my mind, my very being.
Screeching rejection and denial of my existence,
All too familiar, yet I shiver in unwilling perseverance.

I think to myself — why couldn’t I be normal?

My feet tap on the linoleum floor,
Eyes adjusting to lights that roar.
Fists clench tight at sudden sounds,
Hair ripped out as overstimulation surrounds.

People think to themselves — why couldn’t she just be normal?

A shift in routine rewires my brain,
Lingering fears of my portrayal as disdain.
Just another “quirk” to break a beloved bond,
Maybe I’ll hide who I am so we can move on.

I think to myself — maybe I’ll try to be normal

The longer I mask, the more I ache,
From every movement I dread to fake.
It doesn’t matter how I feel,
I work, I serve, to turn the wheel.

I think to myself — how do I even be normal?
Archer Feb 24
Keep having more opinions
And I’ll just
Stop
Caring
Pixie Feb 11
Beyond the hills, they understood me,
In the quiet of my mind, I am seen.
Then my eyes are ripped open, the world hits me like a wave, the anger thick and metallic in my mouth. My pulse races, my skin aches — everything feels too loud, too bright, too much. I can’t escape, and the weight of it all is crushing me, like a  drop of water dripping constantly.

I was not a problem child,
I was a child with a problem That caused me to process the world in patterns and pieces instead of as a whole. I wasn't a puzzle I just needed stability in the home.

Around the river and down the path they supported me
But I'm laying in bed instead
Paralyzed in my own skin, stuck in the chaos of my mind.
Hearing their words on repeat and rewind
Lazy lazy lazy
Try harder try harder try harder
You're a liar liar liar
But I'm trying my hardest I'm doing my best  and the weight of their disbelief presses heavily on my chest. It's thick and suffocating they can't see the mental war inside of me, just the absence of my results. I regret to inform you that It wasn't laziness but invisibility that was a plague to me.


Even when I mixed up my letters and struggled to sit still. I could never be quite and my mind spun like a windmil, running 3 miles a minute,  my mind has never known silence and peace. Though somehow to them  it was always a calculated plan. I would manipulate them with ease.

Fear claws at me, a constant gnawing,
My head starts spinning, and the weight of failure bears down.
I avoid, I freeze, my mind a storm, afraid of failure and afraid to try creating a tornado of paralysis in my mind
I try to speak, but my words are tangled in knots.
no matter the effort and energy I use
It always seems to be reduced, in their minds,
It's all a tactical plan, a game I play to illict attention, even if I lack having an attention span.


When my brain can't comprehend the world in a typical way, I'm told I just need to grow up and deal with the pain.

Lacking the ability to thrive as a child, no one to support the way my brain had been wired, falling deeper and deeper into the role of a liar.

I'm too smart to struggle
I don't apply myself and I lack the ability to juggle multiple tasks
They swear I'm lazy
And I know I'm not good enough for the world they made for me
I can hardly talk to the cashier ladies
I need to improve my work ethic
I need to apply myself.
But what good is trying when you already know you're piling information on top of itsself, crashing and malfunctioning, the system creating coding errors, measured in dysfunction and despair.

Sitting on top of the tree, the branches hug me as I lean into them. I can't be lazy if I climbed all the way up here. I can't be dumb if I know how to get down. I know that what I feel is normalized as unproblematic in my parents town. I can see beyond my struggles and I know I have the ability to succeed. I excell in subject that are beyond me, even if I lack basic literacy and feel lonely.

Everything is normal nothing is symptomatic I'm just being dramatic I'm only a child and children like me can't have that.

Feeling the breeze hit me, and taking in all the shame, I struggle to understand myself and I lack the ability to make it a game. My struggles slip through the cracks and I'm always met with attacks. The fact remains the same that imposter will always be attached to my name

My feelings slip through my finger tips, like sand in the wind. I reach for them on the wheel, but the words dissolve before I grasp them, not even having names. only shapes, fleeting like shadows. Hiding behind the walls. There is not one word to describe this pain at all.

Failing to help regulate my constantly  unregulated body and speculating my motives. Constantly on the edge of our seats fighting for my mind to just be right. Hoping for us to all feel peace

Down by meadow surrounded by flowers, I hear the wind and I know the truth at last. I needed support and a helping hand. A routine and someone to try and understand. Someone to help me find peace within myself and not find chaos in their judgement . I wasn't the problem, I needed to be seen, not as a puzzle but as a whole piece. It was the world at hand not being built for a brain that  processes information like I can
Anyone else need to use the wheel of emotions to figure out what they're feelings
Nemusa Jan 17
He stands like a mountain, unmoving,
carved from the stone of resolve,
his back turned to the whispers of yesterday.
Between him and the past lies a chasm,
a gulf no word or weeping can bridge.
His eyes are cast upon the horizon,
not with longing, but with defiance,
as if to forbid the sun from setting.

He is a vessel of will,
unshaken by the tempests of doubt.
The earth beneath him bears no roots,
for he has buried the seeds of memory deep,
turning the soil with hands unyielding.
He carries no questions,
only the certainty of his path.

The light of my soul falls upon his shadow,
but he does not turn.
“Walk,” he commands, his voice steady as stone,
and I walk,
my feet striking the earth he has shaped,
the echoes of my steps swallowed
by the silence he wields.

Behind me, he remains,
a sentinel, a hunter,
his hands heavy with the tools of finality.
He stands among the echoes of voices unheard,
the promise of thunder held in his gaze.
He does not falter,
for his is the burden of knowing.

And I, trembling in the shadow of his presence,
feel the weight of his unspoken truths.
He is the storm that loves,
the abyss that holds,
the force that binds me to this earth.
Though I fear his silence,
I know no other home.
I am in a very loving relationship but sometimes he scares me. I know we all have our quirks but he has a mix of ASD and psychopath in him, though he keeps himself under strict control. Funnily enough his calm demeanor comfort's me.
Struggling in school everyday,
Feeling like I'm behind.
Struggling with basic math,
teachers making fun of me.
Hurting deep,
Not receiving any support I need.
Why does my brain work differently?
Teachers, students bullying me,
Is it my fault?

The pain runs deep,
With no one to understand.
Why does my brain work in ways they can't see?
Am I broken? Am I stupid?

Laughter echoes when I stumble,
Words like knives, they cut me thin.
I wonder, is this my fault?

Students, teachers bullying me,
How long will it last?
actual story i have to go through everyday
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