Actually, that is irrelevant #ActuallyAutistic, 11 6 22

I​ stupidly believed I was one of them. I showed up and learned and played their fucking insane dumb games adequately.

M​y bad. No one is on my team. These hateful people are bent on being right, and nothing else matters. They will fuck and rape and argue and hate and use and pretend and lie and ignore all of us

to death.

Fuck beauty. Fuck peace love and understanding. Fuck truth. No one cares about any of that anymore…well…wait, not no one. We all care a lot, and that is what is making us so fucking angry. So we separate. Denigrate. Subjugate.

L​ove is silenced. Wrong words will not be tolerated. Realness is illegal. Die long. My heart is still beating, and this body will continue breathing as long as I can make room for it. Not much longer.

T​aking things as they are….from here. Elon a year or so ago, “I don’t believe in optimism or pessimism. Fuck that, we’re gonna get it done.” after “If it needs to be done we should do it or die trying.”

T​his kind of talk was one of my major clues of autism, along with him publically sharing that he falls under that label as well. This is the language of an autist. Things fucking matter a lot, and also, nothing matters. The problems are ours to solve, as they have been ours to create.

I don’t understand this prevalent human tendency to think someone else is in charge or someone else should be taking care of things–to put our wellness in the hands of disease management, our morals in the hands of corrupt talking head puppets. To buy and sell only hate…I don’t see any good ends in sight anymore. We are ours. We need to take ownership of ourselves. It might be too late.

I​ don’t really know what I am, but I am painfully aware that fewer and fewer humans speak my language. I am aware that is probably insanity, and also, like all insane thinkers, it really seems like I am doing my best to make sense, and that a tiny bit of space or desire to understand me would make that easy. We are speaking the same language, but I am looking for the meaning the words point to, and more and more, humans can’t seem to get beyond wrong spelling or phrasing or triggers that have been installed.

Hate triggers. We are fucking full of them. We are media. We have commodified and weaponized ourselves. That is insanity. So I can either belong to an increasingly insane society, or isolate and go insane inside myself. Those are the choices I currently see. I choose me. At least I am familiar with my own company, and I am kinda neat.

I​ can muster hope only when I don’t interact with humans…online at least…maybe? No, I have trouble around anyone that I feel is not being authentic, or anyone who is chaotically angry, which is me most of the time. I have trouble around my mother whom I love so much, every week.

I​ am fucking angry.

People I love continue to use out of context soundbites as reason to hate. It is utterly insane to me. It is the same exact thing as racism and sexism and every other kind of cancerous hate to me. I don’t know how to navigate through it and survive, let alone thrive.

P​eople who I thought were friends and family and community all have shunned and turned away; laughed, pointed, publically dehumanized me. I am still human. I feel it. They feel me. We are one.

Let’s walk then, while that is still an option. After a smoke. That’s an option too. I try to minimize the times I am weeping openly as I walk around my neighborhood. I am already a well established crazy angry mytery lady. Artist? Maybe I can still pull that off. We will see.