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I hear her footsteps above me. I’m sitting in the living room, but our house is pretty old.
I can hear every fucking footstep.
I can hear the neighbours moving around and yelling. Their dogs are barking again.
I can hear my dad talking louder than he needs to.
At least they’re not eating. Eating is the worst. It feels like literally no one apart from me can do it with their fucking mouth shut quietly.
She’s fucking walking again.
I hate this.
Literally no one else has to deal with this. No one else hears someone walking and wants to strangle them. I want to cry but I can’t. I’ll end up screaming. Or breaking something, or even more annoying, I’ll hurt myself.
I can hear her coughing upstairs, and one of the neighbours kids is humming.
Did I mention I fucking hate this?
I feel like an awful person. It makes me so fucking angry. It makes me want to rip my fucking skin off or tear my eardrums out.
Being angry makes it worse; anger is like an itchy feeling, making it’s way up my arms and across my chest.
I want to fucking scream. The world isn’t silent for a fucking second.
This is why I’m considered the resident weirdo.
I can’t sit in my own house in what most would consider silence without wanting to smash my fucking head in.
I feel so sick.
My head hurts and every sound makes my heart pound quicker in my chest.
Fuck this.
No one gets it. I know what it is, it’s autism. My parents wouldn’t believe me. I’ve tried to bring it up before, they brushed it off. God forbid I ruin the image that our family is fucking perfect any more than I already have.
I flap my hand, hoping it’ll stop it, but I’ve been masking for so long it hurts.
My skin feels like it’s on fire. Moving makes it worse. Wherever my clothes touch me hurts.
I want this to stop. I’m tired of feeling broken.
I did try to cope; I tried to play the role of the perfect daughter, tried to improve my mental health, but look at me now. It’s worse than ever.
Zoe’s walking around again, and I feel my whole body tense up, and then I let out a quiet squeak.
I used to scream but that got obvious fast, now I hold back.
Tears start dribbling down my cheeks, burning hot like the rest of me.
I dig my nails into my shoulders in an attempt to stop, but it just makes me cry more.
Crying feels awful too. It feels like I can never get the tears out, and it makes my eyes and nose all itchy. And the drool and snot is fucking disgusting.
It’s not usually that bad, that’s just what sensory overload does. I fucking hate it.
My shoulders are shaking so much.
I don’t understand why I’m expected to make friends and pretend to be normal. It’s like they’re standing miles away and I’m forced to watch through a window.
I don’t matter to anyone, I never will.
They know I’m broken, I can see it in their eyes when I try to talk to them, and I hear it when they make fun of me. I can’t emotionally connect with them.
To them I’m just that one kid who lashes out all the time and wouldn’t shut up about books for years.
I hate school.
I hate home.
Maybe it’s just me.
There’s not really a maybe about it, is there? It’s obvious I’m the problem.
For fucks sake, I tell myself that whenever I look in the mirror after things like this.
I let out another frustrated squeak and feel myself stop shaking enough to take a breath, and slowly the tears stop falling.
Then it starts feeling cold, and I’m tired.
I close my eyes and pull my hood over my head.
I fucking hate everything.
I wish I’d just disappear. Then I’d never have to deal with this shit again, not sensory overload, being fucking mocked, my own family hating me, none of it.
One day I’ll disappear.
Just not today.