Neurodivergence
I Need to Unmask If I Want to Save My Creativity
I need my emotions to fuel my imagination
I was fifteen. I was running up the stairs to my classroom and passed a bunch of guys from our class. I called out “Hello!” But they didn’t reply. They started laughing at me instead. I don’t know what it was — the clothes I wore, the way I spoke, the way I moved… I knew I was different, but up until that point, it didn’t bother me much. In that split second, I realized that there exists an image of myself in other people’s heads — and that it often isn’t very flattering.
I was the weirdo
I was “that girl”. That girl who had mental anorexia and had to take half a year from school to go to the hospital. That girl who wore weird clothes. That girl who didn’t pay attention. That girl who sometimes started crying during class and had to be sent outside to the school playground to calm down. That girl who tended to the flowers in the school halls during recess because their leaves were dusty and she was sad that they couldn’t breathe.
But I had two wonderful, weird friends, and they tended to the flowers with me. We played crazy games together and were happy. Fitting in didn’t concern me much — until even my best friends started becoming young women instead of…
