nostalgia addict

overly sensitive and not sure what i'm doing here (and that's okay)

[sleeplessv0id]

what doesn't kill you makes you weird at intimacy

[aropride]

[hopeful-recoveryy]

Some of my favorite posts on r/BenignExperience from the past week

Thanks to the tumblr post that made me aware of this subreddit. It makes me smile.

Part two, part three, part four

[hopeful-recoveryy]

Some of my favorite posts on r/BenignExperience from the past week

Thanks to the tumblr post that made me aware of this subreddit. It makes me smile.

Part two, part three, part four

[only-knives]

all your stuffed animals love you. they're not sad if they're in a box, or on the floor, or not held/played with as much. they understand. they know that you might need another stuffie more, or that you don't have enough space. they're just happy to be with you, and if you ever give them away, they'll be happy there too. stuffies are for comfort. they understand. they love you too. it's okay.

[etherealspacejelly]

sometimes you just have to let yourself be a bit neurodivergent.

i hate going out, it gives me a lot of anxiety and sensory input that i dont like, and i am often forced to talk to people.

so i do this thing on more difficult days, or sometimes just for fun, where i "bring a fictional character with me". i walk and imagine Fictional Character walking next to me. they talk to me, reassure me, hype me up, whatever i need them to do.

today dean winchester came christmas shopping with me. he went over the list with me of stuff i needed to get, told me i was doing a good job every time i finished in a certain shop, reminded me to take a deep breath when i got a little overwhelmed.

and yea. its kinda silly. and i know its just me talking to myself in a different voice, but it Works! especially since all of my special interests/hyperfixations tend to be tv/movie related.

so do what you gotta do to Get Shit Done. stop holding yourself to neurotypical standards. if you need Fictional Character to tell you you're doing a good job, do it! if you need Favourite Singer to walk you to school, do it! yea it might feel silly but you're literally fighting against your own brain to get stuff done every single day. you can have a little self indulgent daydream, as a treat.

[izrod-deactivated20250924]

"friends don't look at each other like that" well okay you coward you do whatever you want however i WILL look at my friends like they're the most important thing in the world. i love them with my whole heart and i will hold their hand and stare at the stars not because i wanna fuck them but because they mean the world to me and i care about them. fuck you

[small-bambi]

Harrison Wood Hsiang

[theanythingmachine]

my first favorite hobby is yapping. second is being extremely quiet and not talking ever at all ever.

[scifibabee]

hey, ya girl had a breakthrough in therapy. who wants to journal with me?

and to be so clear: this is a very nuanced topic, and is based on me and my experience, not saying this is true for all autistics (i'd hope that'd go without saying, but. covering my ass, anyway).

---

the autistic trauma of moral vigilance

aka: being raised in a world where your natural way of being was read as wrong

here we go, folks!

1. every mistake was magnified

when you're autistic, your “errors” don’t get interpreted as oops.

they get interpreted as defiance, disrespect, or dysfunction.

you didn’t make eye contact? you’re rude.

you didn’t answer fast enough? you’re ignoring me.

you asked too many clarifying questions? you’re challenging me.

you didn’t mask your overwhelm? you’re overreacting.

so your body learns:

“if i’m not constantly vigilant about how i show up, i’ll be seen as bad.”

2. masking becomes morality

you didn’t just mask to fit in. you masked to be perceived as a good person.

you learned to suppress natural behaviors—stimming, directness, emotional honesty, tone mismatches—because they weren’t just “weird,” they were interpreted as rude, insensitive, selfish, inappropriate.

and over time?

you stopped being able to tell the difference between what’s wrong and what’s just not neurotypical. you started assuming everything that caused friction was your fault.

so you worked harder and harder to appear morally polished, socially fluent, emotionally tidy. even when it was costing you your nervous system.

3. repair was conditional — and rarely initiated by others

when you’re autistic and raised in a neurotypical environment, you’re almost always the one expected to adjust.

so when a rupture happened?

you were expected to apologize first

you were expected to explain yourself

you were expected to take responsibility for “miscommunications” — even when the other person didn’t meet you halfway

this teaches your brain: “if i don’t preemptively take the blame, i’ll be punished — or worse, completely misunderstood.”

so you spiral not because you were wrong, but because you fear what will happen if someone else decides you were.

4. black-and-white morality became your structure for survival

because when the rules are unclear and inconsistent, when neurotypical norms feel like quicksand, your brain builds rigid systems to try and feel safe.

so you cling to moral absolutes:

“good people don’t yell.”

“if i’m right, i must be calm.”

“if i mess up, it means i was selfish.”

“if i’m hurtful, i’m dangerous.”

you make yourself small, soft, and passive because god forbid anyone see your real emotional intensity and call it wrong.

again.

---

anyway, gonna be screaming the mantras

REGULATION IS NOT A MORAL REQUIREMENT

and

MY BODY IS NOT ON TRIAL

until they hopefully stick.

[aureumaze]

barefoot on the cold tile,

holding out hopes on my fingertips,

in whispers and in screams,

but I've been quiet.

maybe at midnight, maybe at dawn,

but time has dripped down the walls.

the ghost passed down like a curse,

could this ache get you back home safe?

—a.m.

[swagvo1d]

[existennialmemes]

Neurodivergent Magic To Make An Item Disappear:

Pick up the item

Hold the item securely in your hands

Get distracted by something

The item is no longer detectable on this plane of existence

There is no reversal spell. The item will never be seen again.

[delete-the-kisses]

i burnt my tongue on some coffee today, it was the only thing left

i’d already burnt all the bridges

nausea crept up my throat as i fought to pay attention to something else

spilling my guts out was no option. i had already seen everything and decided it was bad

it was bad and i accepted it, i could not taste the words forming in my mouth

the coffee machine broke and i spent days poking and prodding at my insides

my heart was too fast for its own good, my bones too fragile, and my stomach held the shame

it was nothing new so i accepted it. i told no one about what i was.

i fixed the machine eventually, as i could taste again and the coffee would not be bad

it was my fault to begin with.

i should’ve waited for the coffee to cool down. i should’ve eaten beforehand. i should’ve poured it down the drain since i made too many cups.

i laid my insides on the floor and i watched. the coffee poured right out of my stomach, painting my bones an ugly sepia. 

my heart was quite ugly. it slipped right through my hands. i did not want to hold it so i didn’t blame anyone else for thinking the same thing.

i drank more coffee and wondered when i’d want to put my insides back in. i did not want to see them, but i did not want to be them either.

[delete-the-kisses]

she is not an object of my affection but the symptom of a disease, metastatic and fatal. 

the one i crane my neck for, stare at the shadows in the crook of her collarbone and the lines of her smile. 

she is a paradox, the only cure to what consumes me. she uses her hands to draw blood, she heals me regardless of scars.

i am the mangled corpse of a songbird resting on the highway. i am the restless gust of wind that runs through her hair.

(she is rain where i am the wilting flower, she is every sound in the world where i rest in my own heartbeat.)

i am stasis where she is motion, i am corrosion where she is creation. i am the immovable object, falling limp into the hands that hang the stars as i am met with an unstoppable force.

the light that she protects in her ribcage will set the world on fire, and i will bask in the glory of knowing someone greater than the sun.

she is a symptom, and i am an addict — despair herself, how she allures me.

[delete-the-kisses]

the ache in my teeth won’t go away 

though i quit eating so many sweets

in my bones sits a heavy realisation

i must tear them off 

you trace the empty space in my gums with 

your sharp tongue 

my mouth tastes of blood and sour apple candy

acid melts it all away 

a brief escape from all unholy

every truth that got stuck between my teeth 

drips away in striking colors

you taste it and we watch as you, 

too, 

begin to ache

shaking and squirming with 

new lies under your skin

they don’t quite fit

they are tearing muscle and bursting veins

i can’t take it anymore

don’t ache with me

i will teach you how to make it go away

the teeth arranged on the table will spell 

sweets

[anexperimentallife]