LavĂnia
plalace
- Feb 19, 2024
- 175
I have mild autism, initially classified as Asperger's but the name changed. While that diagnosis was enlightening, I don't fully trust it; the neuropsychologist I saw showed some signs of bias in that report. She had autism and talked a lot about autism. I wasn't in a very good situation, and I think my insecurities allowed much more serious symptoms to show through.
I have anxiety, I'd say the disorder itself, but without a diagnosis yet. I had some consultations and took medication, like fluoxetine and clonazepam, but I didn't continue. I have bursts of energy. I work all day sitting at a computer at the company, and my leg doesn't stop moving; I move it, tap it on the floor in various rhythms, or sometimes I just force it to tense my muscles. I constantly peel the skin off my fingers, to the point of bleeding. My mind wanders when I have a lot of free time, making everything a hellish confessional.
I have symptoms of depression, again, undiagnosed. I feel like I've improved a lot, but there's still white noise in my head, a feeling of emptiness and disconnection that brings me some comfort but also destroys me and distances me from everything.
I don't know which of these things caused what happened below, if it was one of them, all of them together, or if it's just who I am, a fucking overthinking that doesn't know how to stop.
I went to get my hair cut, left home, and started walking to the mall to arrive on time. Along the way, I remembered the past, some insecurities, some good moments with friends, with my ex, with my family. This city is full of memories; even wanting to run away, I always stayed here. Each block has a mark I can't forget. The house of the friend I no longer answer; the bakery I used to go to with my ex; the school I studied at; the places I went with my mother.
I kept walking and thinking, more and more. I thought about what the hairdresser might say, I thought about what I might answer. Sitting in a chair for 10 minutes while someone else plays with your hair can be tedious, I needed to find a way to avoid causing her so much damage. However, I'm in a phase where I don't really care about things, so I left my thoughts unfinished. I arrived at the salon, after greeting her I sat down and tried to start a conversation, but I couldn't. I felt her eyes cutting into me, I felt exposed.
I took off my glasses and held them, she held my hair, measured it and proceeded with the scissors.
/
- What can I say in this case, bring up work again
- Who the hell cares about your job, you're just going to flatter yourself and bore people to death, you're a kid who's barely worked a day in your life and thinks your tiredness is justifiable
- What was that, she glanced at me out of the corner of her eye? Is she bothered by me?
- Of course, the attendant next to her is laughing, this situation could be better for your hairdresser, it could be a quality moment that affirms her life choice, but unfortunately she got you, incompetence personified, a piece of trash who doesn't even bother to be useful.
/
She runs the scissors close to my ear, defining my hairline.
/
- I should have washed behind my ears before leaving the house, that's what I forgot. Fuck it if - I didn't put conditioner in my hair to avoid discomfort, any dirt that might be in my ear has already ruined her day
- There, good, you're amazing, let her see how dirty you are, turn this into fucking torture. She'll look at you with disgust, remembering it every time she sees your face. Did you forget about your dandruff too? That shitty skin and hair you have is going to leave a good mark, you're a disgusting person
/
I remain silent, fidgeting with my fingers, looking at my face in the mirror. I see a blur. That's it, ashamed to see my face. She tries to start a conversation, I respond believing I have a good answer and fail again.
/
- Does anyone understand you? No, seriously, can you be useful for anything You destroyed your family. You ended your mother's hope. You can barely talk to your sister. You forget so much that you barely have memories of your relatives, can you even like something that doesn't involve you? Why can't you talk like a normal person? Why can't you try to be like a normal person? You need to be this disgust, this memory of a human being
- Does anyone understand me? Can I be understood by anyone?
- If you could, you already abandoned them, that's what you would do anyway, get scared by something and start hating, distancing yourself and blaming everyone
- Where's my mother? Can't she come here?
- How old are you? You're 22 years old, 22 years old and you still needed your mom to protect you?
- Where's my mother?
- It's already July, weren't you going to kill yourself in October? Remember that time a girl with real problems asked you for help? What did you answer again? Did you still think it was you who needed help?
- And what about M? She liked you, you turned her into a disorder
/
I avoid looking in the mirror. I look in the mirror. I avoid playing with my fingers, and I start picking at the skin around my nails. My vision is a blur with still defined figures. I look at my face. I have a face. What is my face?
/
- Noppera-bo. Noppera-bo.
- Turn your insecurity into a spectacle. Play the victim a little longer. Oh, how about continuing to make this an entertainment? "I'm so alone, I'm so unsuccessful and miserable." Keep turning this into your identity, pretend you have control over it, pretend you don't care, pretend you care but keep justifying your laziness with it. I bet it's a sacrifice for her to cut your hair. I bet your mother must be disgusted to have a disappointment like you. What are you going to do? Are you going to hurt yourself again?
/
Leaving the mall I walked back home. I felt my hand tingling, I felt an urge to punch myself, to hurt myself more. Is that all I can do? Can I only keep trying to destroy the image I have of myself? To hurt myself more? Have you ever hurt yourself in your life? Did you know that your suffering might just be normal? Is your mind so weak and incapable that routine stresses are reasons for you to want to give up? To think you're a victim? You're so pathetic. You're so incompetent. You're good for nothing, there will always be someone better, someone more capable who is actually useful. You only bring pain and discomfort, simply by existing. Turn your insecurities into great pain, and cry in a dark corner thinking you're not understood.
/
My hair didn't look good, I cut it too short. I felt like I was destroying myself inside, and I couldn't stop. I only stopped because I decided to forget it happened, again, wasting time with something to distract myself. Is this autism? Is this anxiety? Depression? Or nothing?
I have anxiety, I'd say the disorder itself, but without a diagnosis yet. I had some consultations and took medication, like fluoxetine and clonazepam, but I didn't continue. I have bursts of energy. I work all day sitting at a computer at the company, and my leg doesn't stop moving; I move it, tap it on the floor in various rhythms, or sometimes I just force it to tense my muscles. I constantly peel the skin off my fingers, to the point of bleeding. My mind wanders when I have a lot of free time, making everything a hellish confessional.
I have symptoms of depression, again, undiagnosed. I feel like I've improved a lot, but there's still white noise in my head, a feeling of emptiness and disconnection that brings me some comfort but also destroys me and distances me from everything.
I don't know which of these things caused what happened below, if it was one of them, all of them together, or if it's just who I am, a fucking overthinking that doesn't know how to stop.
I went to get my hair cut, left home, and started walking to the mall to arrive on time. Along the way, I remembered the past, some insecurities, some good moments with friends, with my ex, with my family. This city is full of memories; even wanting to run away, I always stayed here. Each block has a mark I can't forget. The house of the friend I no longer answer; the bakery I used to go to with my ex; the school I studied at; the places I went with my mother.
I kept walking and thinking, more and more. I thought about what the hairdresser might say, I thought about what I might answer. Sitting in a chair for 10 minutes while someone else plays with your hair can be tedious, I needed to find a way to avoid causing her so much damage. However, I'm in a phase where I don't really care about things, so I left my thoughts unfinished. I arrived at the salon, after greeting her I sat down and tried to start a conversation, but I couldn't. I felt her eyes cutting into me, I felt exposed.
I took off my glasses and held them, she held my hair, measured it and proceeded with the scissors.
/
- What can I say in this case, bring up work again
- Who the hell cares about your job, you're just going to flatter yourself and bore people to death, you're a kid who's barely worked a day in your life and thinks your tiredness is justifiable
- What was that, she glanced at me out of the corner of her eye? Is she bothered by me?
- Of course, the attendant next to her is laughing, this situation could be better for your hairdresser, it could be a quality moment that affirms her life choice, but unfortunately she got you, incompetence personified, a piece of trash who doesn't even bother to be useful.
/
She runs the scissors close to my ear, defining my hairline.
/
- I should have washed behind my ears before leaving the house, that's what I forgot. Fuck it if - I didn't put conditioner in my hair to avoid discomfort, any dirt that might be in my ear has already ruined her day
- There, good, you're amazing, let her see how dirty you are, turn this into fucking torture. She'll look at you with disgust, remembering it every time she sees your face. Did you forget about your dandruff too? That shitty skin and hair you have is going to leave a good mark, you're a disgusting person
/
I remain silent, fidgeting with my fingers, looking at my face in the mirror. I see a blur. That's it, ashamed to see my face. She tries to start a conversation, I respond believing I have a good answer and fail again.
/
- Does anyone understand you? No, seriously, can you be useful for anything You destroyed your family. You ended your mother's hope. You can barely talk to your sister. You forget so much that you barely have memories of your relatives, can you even like something that doesn't involve you? Why can't you talk like a normal person? Why can't you try to be like a normal person? You need to be this disgust, this memory of a human being
- Does anyone understand me? Can I be understood by anyone?
- If you could, you already abandoned them, that's what you would do anyway, get scared by something and start hating, distancing yourself and blaming everyone
- Where's my mother? Can't she come here?
- How old are you? You're 22 years old, 22 years old and you still needed your mom to protect you?
- Where's my mother?
- It's already July, weren't you going to kill yourself in October? Remember that time a girl with real problems asked you for help? What did you answer again? Did you still think it was you who needed help?
- And what about M? She liked you, you turned her into a disorder
/
I avoid looking in the mirror. I look in the mirror. I avoid playing with my fingers, and I start picking at the skin around my nails. My vision is a blur with still defined figures. I look at my face. I have a face. What is my face?
/
- Noppera-bo. Noppera-bo.
- Turn your insecurity into a spectacle. Play the victim a little longer. Oh, how about continuing to make this an entertainment? "I'm so alone, I'm so unsuccessful and miserable." Keep turning this into your identity, pretend you have control over it, pretend you don't care, pretend you care but keep justifying your laziness with it. I bet it's a sacrifice for her to cut your hair. I bet your mother must be disgusted to have a disappointment like you. What are you going to do? Are you going to hurt yourself again?
/
Leaving the mall I walked back home. I felt my hand tingling, I felt an urge to punch myself, to hurt myself more. Is that all I can do? Can I only keep trying to destroy the image I have of myself? To hurt myself more? Have you ever hurt yourself in your life? Did you know that your suffering might just be normal? Is your mind so weak and incapable that routine stresses are reasons for you to want to give up? To think you're a victim? You're so pathetic. You're so incompetent. You're good for nothing, there will always be someone better, someone more capable who is actually useful. You only bring pain and discomfort, simply by existing. Turn your insecurities into great pain, and cry in a dark corner thinking you're not understood.
/
My hair didn't look good, I cut it too short. I felt like I was destroying myself inside, and I couldn't stop. I only stopped because I decided to forget it happened, again, wasting time with something to distract myself. Is this autism? Is this anxiety? Depression? Or nothing?
