Slowly..Understanding?

I’m Autistic.

Let me make that clear. I don’t know much about anything, except, with how I observe things or research about them?

I have thought about my life so much, and my father in law wants me to write about my life for him.

I have thought about it, and it kinda just makes me cry a little bit.

I don’t recall a lot of good things happening in my life and that’s sad to say.

My parents, or should my mother, I now have recognized that she is a narcissistic mother. This makes a lot of sense, because when I was growing up, it usually was about how things made “her” feel, not me. Let me give you an example:

I auditioned for a movie when I was 13 years old. I don’t recall what it was called or what it would be called, but I recall going to the audition, and nailing it, that the casting directors wanted to see me again for a call back and my mother just said, “NO!”

I, of course, who big dreams to be a famous actress, was devastated. I wanted to be famous, and I this sounds really odd when I say it, but I wanted to be included. I wanted to be invited to things, while of course, acting and doing what I loved: being other people.

But instead, that dream was ripped away from me, as most of my dreams were. As an autistic person, your parents or whoever raises you, try to “take control” of your life. Sadly, my mother did that.

It was so hard growing up knowing that you weren’t fully supported by your parents, and techinally still aren’t.

Why can’t I ever find some solace in support?

There are things I’ll understand and there are things I don’t..

For example:

I had sent some birthday packages this year and haven’t heard a single thing about them.

Well, is it me? Or just the system? I don’t know? I wish people would use their words with me. It would help, a great deal. I need words. I can’t read people’s minds or their thoughts, or their body language? I can’t. That’s a flaw that I have.

I don’t know? If I did something, why don’t they say anything?

Words, HELP. Believe me.

I am a woman who hates being alive. I have never felt comfortable being alive. I guess it’s because when people tell you that you’ve made them “uncomfortable” — then you start looking at yourself differently.

I wish someday, people would understand that autistic woman like me, would understand how it feels not to be “wanted” or “loved” or just both.

I have desired for both. Love is complicated for me. People who say, “I love you,” and then they leave me, it makes me feel really insecure and again, uncomfortable of being alive.

I guess the reason why I want to “Die” so much, is because I know the peple that I want to be with, are not here anymore and in my mind, they would take me by the hand and love me. I know they would, I’ve seen them do it.

But, instead, my life, is one big clusterfuck. I am trying to find the good in things, but it’s getting harder and harder to breathe.

There are so many things I want to give up on, because I know no one cares about it.

As I read in the third volume of my diaries, it said,

“It doesn’t matter if I live or die anymore. People will go on, and they will forget about me, just like they had when I was alive.”

I really feel that, and it’s true. People say that you are not appreciated until you are gone. For me, I will be forgotten about when I am gone, and it’s so apparent now than ever. I guess the older I get, the more lost I become internally or the world around me.

The world is on fire, and the world is fighting, and the world cannot show love or compassion. I don’t make a goddamn difference to anyone, and there’s nothing I can do change things.

I wish I could. I wish I could stop the hatred, the wars, bloodshed, or stupid country leaders fucking up our futures.

I am exhausted, but here we are, I can’t seem to be “Here” or “There”.