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This is my everyday reality. So while I thank god that the Manic Pixie Dream Girl exists as a trope so I can just look “quirky” in everyday life, it’s still so much effort to be normal-ish every day. And people tell me to be more of myself — but I don’t think they understand how many years of rejection, brutal bullying, and constant paranoia about social cues I have to work through before I get to be “me”.

And the constant struggles to compensate for my executive function. And my mild face blindness. And those days my mental health is so bad I have dissociative episodes and just have to pretend I’m “just tired” when I’m really wondering if I’m an AI in a human suit.


I mean, yes, I’m a Saga Norén or Temperance Brennan level of (relatively) well adjusted and 90% of the time the (book) smartest person in the room, but sometimes I wish I could repurpose some of my brain to wanting to fit in like a normal person. Instead of being afraid of being stabbed in the back at every turn.

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