“In The Second Chamber Of My Fourth Heart Down To The Left Of The Third Valve Is The Room I Keep For

why do all the words sound heavier in my native language?

—  @metamorphesque, Yoojin Grace Wuertz (Mother Tongue), Still Dancing: An Interview With Ilya Kaminsky (by Garth Greenwell), Jhumpa Lahiri (Translating Myself and Others), @lifeinpoetry

˗ˏˋ☕ˎˊ˗        

And if you’re lucky… it gives us another chance.”

mmmm okay but what if I don't want to play it cool? I like you very much and I'm sure the whole point of this is that you are supposed to know it yes?

This is heaven

"cringe culture is dead" ok but does that include ppl you find ugly, ppl who are into hobbies or fandoms you find weird, ppl w kinks you find odd, autistic people who dont fit your standards, mentally ill people who dont fit your standards, 12 year olds having fun, 30 year olds having fun, furries, fat ppl who dont fit ur standards, or is it just conventionally attractive alt ppl who fit the beauty standard. answer quick

— Clarice Lispector, from “Dies Irae.”

even 2 years ago people still said autism with a whisper. it was also how people sometimes whisper lesbian, like they're afraid of uttering a slur. autistic was either an insult or it was something terrible, a horrible burden only select people endure. "select people" were usually 9 year old boys and skinny white men.

they are not hispanic young adults with a dog and a life and friends. i can make (sustained, calculated, painful) eye contact. with certain people, i don't even have to count how many seconds i am holding their vision - i can just look at them. i can wear clothes that bother me, i will just have a worse day than usual. i might cry about any changes to my schedule - but change is scary! this is normal!

when i was 16 it was OCD. i mean that was the thing everyone said. i totally have ocd. they would arrange 6 colors of gel pen in rainbow order (no worry for indigo feeling left out) and they'd be "so ocd" about it.

if you struggle with intrusive thoughts, be careful at this next paragraph, but. at 16 i developed a compulsion that involved self-harm. my ocd was convinced i was simply forgetting that i'd hurt someone terribly - a thought that persisted for no clear or delineated reason.

at some point i will probably write about how the idea of "morally pure thoughts" was hell for me and others with ocd, but this was the odd dichotomy for many of us: they liked our "aesthetic", but were genuinely repulsed by our lived experience. "intrusive thoughts" now means "cutting your hair in the sink" instead of talking yourself down from believing horrible things. "so ocd" is a label without any true understanding.

it's something i've talked about before - in multiplicity - but i firmly believe in the veracity and necessity of self-diagnosis. i think it saves lives and it saves tragedies from occurring. as someone raised in a house that wasn't safe, self-diagnosis was, for many years, the only viable option. 15 and honestly googling: am i depressed or there demons affecting my behavior.

but it is not genuine self-diagnosis anymore, most of the time. it is a strange, blanched version of that whispered word autism. now certain traits are constantly seen as "autistic" - any passing intense interest. any flubbed social interaction. people say it while laughing - a touch of the 'tism.

and i like the acceptance! i do. i like that people are talking about it. i like that if i self-identify, more people speak up and say me too, bitch. but there is something-else quietly happening, the way it happened to OCD. the quirky, "fun" parts have been washed and sanitized and removed of all suffering. now it is just something that makes you "a little bit silly."

it took me 27 years on this planet before i learned to make friends. something about me just seems incredibly odd, i guess, some kind of radiation monitoring. someone once (in a way that was almost friendly) told me i am doing the right things, but in a way that's off-putting. i have scoured myself raw attempting to be charming.

someone on tiktok does a deep dive into their particular passion. the top comment says "what kind of autism is this lol". like we are a breed of animal. like it has no influence on our experience. like our life is a fresh breeze, an open meadow.

more often for me, life was a drowning.

Anybody can love you when it is easy, 

when they love the very idea of you

that they have cultivated to entertain

them, but can you love me when the reality

is different from that which you expect?

Can you love me even when I am a mess

or is your love incapable of expanding

beyond the shallowness of the depths

in which you choose to cautiously wade?

Can you only love me in the colors

that you have painted with the brush of

your own eyes that hides the truth of

this flesh because I am not the heaven

you have made of me, but the cosmic dust

of the reality of this earth and the breath of

the hope of its last prayer?

- J.Wool, Can You Love Me Then, Breaths of the Soul