as·sump·tion
noun
plural noun: assumptions
1. a thing that is accepted as true or as certain to happen, without proof.
examples:
“they made inaccurate assumptions about her intentions even though they’d know her for almost 3 years."
“one of her best friends made an assumption that she didn’t care about her grief when in reality, it had just been a long week.”
“Gabriella made assumptions based off a series of lies someone who she thought she could trust facilitated and ended up facing the consequences.”
ever since i was a kid, i’ve always felt like i didn’t belong.
i know that sounds corny and unoriginal but it’s true. i’ve dealt with people misunderstanding me my whole life so you’d think i’d be used to it. and of course as a person who is neurodivergent my solution was to over explain myself. which only made people understand me even less.
1. “you talk a lot…”
2. “do you ever shut up?”
3. “you’re very combative.”
4. “why do you always ask so many questions?”
1. i know, apparently i started talking around 4 or 5 months old and just never stopped.
2. occasionally, when im extremely shocked, ridiculously sad or if im just enraged (not good)
3. i don’t try to be, maybe it’s my tone (due to the years of having to defend myself from the constant criticism and mischaracterization)
4. here’s a question for that question, when did it become a crime to ask questions ?
recent events have put a lot of things into perspective for me, and the fact of the matter is:
i’m sick and fucking tired of explaining myself.
whoops, been tryna cut back on my swearing but honestly sometimes it’s just necessary.
anyway like i said, i’m sick of it. i didn’t realize how mentally exhausted and drained i was until LITERALLY today, right now, 4:21am. when the tears keep rolling down my cheeks and my aching fingers cradle my mouth and nose as i try to stifle my cry’s so i don’t wake my relatives in the rooms across the hall and next to me.
honestly i just feel defeated. sometimes its like i cant do anything right, and while im busy being bad at everything time just slips away.
i miss my childhood (the good parts of it)
i miss my best friend from middle school who doesn’t talk to me anymore.
i miss the way the pillowcase that my grandma made for me by hand felt against my skin.
i miss my cats. (they’re fine just not with me)
i miss my toy poddle Knotlyn.
i miss the way i always used to notice the sounds of the birds chirping outside.
i miss the way sun-dried fabrics smelled when my grandma would bring them inside from off the clothesline.
i miss not knowing all the different ways anxiety can manifest as physical illness or pain.
i miss wired headphones!
i miss that slightly painful feeling you get in your core from laughing a little too much.
i miss not knowing what it feels like to cry so much that the corner of your eye burns from constantly wiping and trying to hide tears.
i miss drinking from the hose outside.
i miss not know what a trauma response is, and how many of them i have.
and lastly, i miss the times when it didn’t feel like all i do is fight for my goddamn life everyday.
when i didn’t feel the need to people please so much that it became second nature. i really questioning who i am without the masking, the people pleasing, and emotional breakdowns that leave me with nothing but shattered pieces of myself i keep cutting my fingers on while i try to put them back together or force them to fit.
but you know what the saddest part is ?
i don’t even know if there were ever times like that.
so how about this, let’s start now.
I am as you see, either you get it or you don’t.
and those who don’t get it can FUCK OFF.
understanding me isn’t hard if you just stop assuming the worst to begin with.
