#dyslexicwriter
The Words Churn
Words don’t line up.
They twist and blur.
They fight me hard.
I keep tools close.
Dictionaries steady me.
Spell and Grammar Apps—
back me up.
I drag sense out.
I force words through.
I build poems tough.
Knuckles down daily.
Tools help steady.
The grind is mine.
The road shifts constantly.
I walk it anyway.
Dyslexia hits hard.
I claim lines regardless.
I break old styles.
I forge new ones.
My voice decides form.
I write on, unshaken.
Feb 19
Feb 19, 2026 at 6:20 AM UTC
There’s something I haven’t told you.
When you read my words,
when you pause on my lines,
when you sit inside the spaces I leave —
you’re reading someone
who was never “good at English.”
I mix letters.
I trip over spelling.
Sometimes my thoughts move faster
than my hands can catch them.
I’m dyslexic.
School made that feel like a flaw.
Like I was behind.
Like language wasn’t built for me.
But here’s the strange, beautiful thing —
I still had stories.
I still had metaphors.
I still had feelings that burned too bright
to stay silent.
So I wrote anyway.
Even when it was messy.
Even when it took longer.
Even when I doubted myself.
And now,
to see thousands of you
reading something
I once thought I wasn’t “good enough” to create —
that means more than you know.
Because this?
This isn’t perfect grammar.
This is persistence.
This is a mind that reads differently
but feels deeply.
So if my words ever resonate,
if they ever sit with you gently
or shake you awake —
know this:
They were written by someone
who was told they struggled with language,
but refused to be silent anyway.
And I’m grateful you’re here.
Truly.
Feb 14
Feb 14, 2026 at 8:38 PM UTC