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People love saying “you can’t blame your parents forever” as if childhood magically stops affecting your nervous system once you pay taxes. The truth is, some wounds don’t disappear with age. You just get better at carrying them while pretending you’re fine in the Walmart checkout line. 💀
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For years people called me “bipolar,” “dramatic,” “too sensitive,” and “crazy” without ever stopping to ask why I experienced the world so differently. Turns out I wasn’t broken after all. I was autistic… and trying to survive in a world that punishes people for standing out while pretending it celebrates individuality. 💀
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or whatever the socially acceptable way is to say “the horrors ruined the vibe” There was a time in my life when I thought adulthood meant buying cute throw pillows and knowing how taxes worked. That was before I learned things.Terrible, awful, character-building things. 😌 Now I can’t even sit peacefully in a waiting room…
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There are days I wake up and feel like a battlefield no one stayed to clean,memories scattered like shell casings, trust buried somewhere beneath the smoke.I’ve been abandoned so quietly it echoed. People leave in pieces, and somehow I’m always the one left holding the blueprint of what we almost were. I’ve stood in rooms…
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