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2demondogs · 18 days ago

Note

Hello, I'm the anon who asked if you write autism and now that i know you do, I'd love it if you could do an gender neutral autistic reader/Javier?

I love music, and I don't think I could live without it. it really helps prevent meltdowns and calms me down when things get too overwhelming. I often hear and love listening to Javier play his music in camp. it's so relaxing and serene sometimes. My favorite is Ángel De Amor :)

I don't really have a specific way for this request to go besides including Javier's music into it. So I'd say you have complete creative freedom! Thank you so much for answering my question, by the way. I love your writing :))

Of course! I am a simple man tbh Javier picks up the guitar in game and I sit Arthur's ass the fuck down. Also thank you <3

I kind of went from the comfort aspect. Sorry this took a second (I also have another like. week old request too) fatigue is kicking my ass this week.

Words: 1.9k Tags: fluff, Javier is madly in love with u, reader has sensory issues, established relationship

You wish you could know true silence.

Javier had looked at you perplexed when you asked if the wind ever bothered him, insisting you meant the sound and not that it messed with hair or clothes or bullets. Lucky him, only hear it during storms.

He had taken your mind off of the racing of your heart by clapping his hands over your ears and grinning. "Better?" He'd asked, and you'd felt his voice reverberating enough to offset the overwhelming roar of blood through his hot palms.

What a fool, you thought and still think, but laying on your bedroll has left you with no sleep and a deep desire for his hands on your face, or how he lays on you in the privacy of trips away from camp. The ground is hard, too hard; you feel cold in a way that's deeper than temperature, as if loneliness could be icelike and sting all over, especially through your empty arms; and it's so quiet that your ears are ringing, searching for noise and focusing only on your own heart thudding — the sound gives you anxiety, for some unknowable reason — and the snores of the camp.

Oh, the snores.

You start to get angry, but you blame it on those, usually. Although Javier snores, and that's never bothered you. Because it's you, you've told him for romance's sake but, really, it's hard to know what's irritating you when everything feels raw and cold and burning all at once.

Before your patience can snap, the pressure of it already building in your throat, you sit up and let your eyes re-adjust to the darkness of the night. You had hardly realized how the darkness behind your lids was growing on your bad side, too.

The campfire is still going nearby, and you see Javier sitting with his back against one of the logs, guitar laid over his lap and a knife in hand. He's doing something to it. Arthur's tent flaps are drawn and the light of a lantern fights against the fire for shadows, the dark outline of a large hand passing over the light now and then; as you walk past, you think maybe Hosea is sitting beside the tent post that covers him, Bill, and Lenny.

Besides the four of you, it's eerily dead. Not an unusual occurrence, really, because it seems these three's insomnias are all interlinked and your own tends to join in on their frequency, too— but eerie all the same.

The choice is clear enough of who to join. Only Javier is surrounded by empty space, though you've learned that doesn't necessarily mean he'll be as friendly with others as he is with you. Romantic privileges, or something like that. You believe he's just sour inside and trying to stuff you into the open sore like cotton.

With only the company of your feet shuffling over dirt, Javier's voice seems gunshot loud.

"What're you up for?" He asks, disinterested before he looks up from his guitar's neck. One string is missing out of six, a new gutstring pinched in his fingers as he twists it where travel had unraveled it in storage. Frayed ends stick from the tuning pegs, tied but not trimmed. His eyes soften when he sees it's you, but he leaves the greeting as it is.

"Can't sleep," you say, and take a seat at a polite distance on the same log.

Javier never complains of your proximity and you feel the urge for it now, that prickly sensation of emptiness along your arms and torso, but something stops you from taking indulgence into your own hands. You're happy that he scoots over some, shrugging and waving the small knife in his hand as he speaks. Glinting in the fire, the blade one of the newer silver ones he picked up during a disastorous Van Horn trip.

"I would'a never guessed," he says. Even though his hair is untied — it seems that he couldn't sleep either, because it is tangled in the back — you know he's smiling.

Past his head, as he leans away, you watch him cut the excess from the last string and tie a firm knot around the tuning peg. The easy way he works his skills always quiets your nerves, the same way it does to watch Javier handle his guitar in general.

When you feel unable to handle anything, it's comforting to know there's someone who knows how to handle something. Someone you've got a claim to, whose skills you take a secondary pride in — look at my man, doesn't he know his way around...? — but that's entirely affection speaking.

"What's on your mind, cielo?" He asks, leans his head back on the log beside your hip and looks up at you.

The shadows draw strangely over his features at this angle. His features have filled out nicely since Dutch dragged him in. Nevermind that they were fuller, still, before Blackwater, or that his undereyes look darker than they have in months. He's handsome, and his eyes flutter shut when you draw your nails gently over the hair sprouting from his temple.

Before, he's laughed when you've spoken honestly, but it has never been at your expense. Javier has some humor about him when you are alone — which is the only place you will confide in him, whether it's fear of your dignity or fear for the life of anyone who side-eyes Javier's sweetheart — and at times, you think maybe he's laughing the way men laugh when they see the sun for the first time in years. There is no judgement behind the way he smiles, showing his gums because the curl of his upper lip grows almost timid.

It is sickening, how in love Javier is.

He makes you feel like you are, for the first time in your life, entirely without flaw. You know that's impossible, that no one is, but feelings never do bow to inferior facts.

You realize you've gotten lost in your thoughts when Javier's lips brush your knuckles, having plucked your hand from his hair and taken it in his own, the fingers curled over the wall of his. He says your name. It sounds good in his rasp.

"S'rry," you say, blink once or twice to remember what he had even asked. What's on your mind? Why are you awake? "It's too quiet 'round here. It's botherin' me."

He nods. "Never sounds right when the woods are quiet," he agrees, and you realize he's misunderstood.

"No, it's very loud," you correct.

Javier squints at you, that familiar humor nudging his eyes. "What do you mean?"

You were going to divulge the depth of it, but now you find yourself focused on explaining this part to him. The entire world was beginning to piss you off, anyways, so finding comfort for one thing must be easier.

"The— well, the silence is too loud. It's buggin' me."

He raises a brow. "Silence is literally too loud?"

"Yes," you say, wondering why he's asking. It sounds odd put that way, sure, but it still makes perfect sense to you. Then he smiles faintly, those eyes soften— and it's apparent that this is another one of those things only you experience. "I could hear my blood running while I was layin' down. Hated it. D'you ever hear yours?"

"Only when it's really pumpin'," he says, and you stop trying to find something he'll relate to.

It doesn't leave you quite so empty-feeling as it has in the past that Javier doesn't have the same issues. None of it matters, because he does not care how foreign some of your complaints are: he will solve them, somehow.

No, Dutch's gramophone never makes his teeth itch, but he'll keep you company outside camp until the old man shuts it off or your mind is calm enough to stomach another opera. No, his clothes never feel abrasive, but he'll let you wear his instead, will look proud that they do not bother you as if he wove the fabric himself. The latter had been one of his first unspoken I love yous. It was his favorite vest.

And now, he's asking: "D'you wanna hear a song instead?"

Your brows knit. "Won't it wake everyone up?"

"No, cariño," Javier says, nods to the ground beside him. "You come closer 'n' I'll play quiet. Jus' for you."

You let yourself smile. "Alright," you say, swallow the warmth you feel at his offer and how relieved you are to have it spoken.

He's played his guitar for you before, many times. You've asked it for some of them, under the guise of not remembering words to his songs — he never questioned this reason, although he knows you can't speak Spanish and likely knew there was something much gentler behind it — or boredom.

Only once has it been for the same reason he plays now: to comfort you. The woods had been too quiet, and you'd been bleeding.

Javier asks for a song, and wrinkles his nose playfully when you say Ángel de Amor. "That's a sad one," he says. "Don't you want something happy?"

"They're all sad," you say. You'd be surprised if Javier knew a love song that was not about heartbreak or being eaten alive by it. "Aren't the best ones always sad?"

He huffs a laugh. "So, are they all the best?"

"Yessir."

He grins, and it malforms the usual sorrow he sings the first verse with, until he gets a handle on his face.

That his songs are all sad is true enough. There's not much joy to be sung about in the outlaw life, just as there's always that one-two, disjointed beginning to it when the guitar is picked up and played. Finding the rhythm, you suppose, or just remembering the feeling of the strings before going into a song that is as second-nature as pouring coffee or lighting a cigarette.

Simple, a three chord progression and those familiar, short lyrics— at least, they sound short, because he rolls the words off his tongue fast and smooth enough to be one, long breath. You don't realize until you are relaxing against the log, your side pressed to his, just how lonely and exhausted you have been all day.

Not lonely any longer, at least, with his warmth bleeding into your skin and the vibration of the guitar wondering across your own leg as he strums. It soothes the buzzing feeling in your veins, the one that lingers when your nerves start to tighten and bunch under the face of whatever sourness found you this evening.

Javier smells good, too, and you realize how distasteful the air had seemed without something thicker, more potent in it. He'd been wearing one of your favorite colognes today, and its afterimage is on his neck when your weary head falls onto his shoulder. Javier does not tell you to move back, although it must make strumming difficult. He adjusts so that he isn't jostling you and shortens the motion of his wrist, which he will complain tomorrow is sore with a smile.

Another habit, which makes you feel somewhat guilty, is that you will never smell him wear a scent again if you get a chance to smell it and do not tell him you like it. Although, through the guilt, there's something in you that feels very special.

After a lifetime of feeling other, here is a man who will do anything to be accepted by you.

Sickening, so very.

You turn your nose to smell the remnants of the cologne on his shirt. You think you recognize El Borrachito before he starts singing, but consciousness leaves you thereafter. In the morning, you'll wake up to find yourself slumped over his shoulder blades and Javier, over his guitar.

#javier escuella x reader #javier escuella #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #autistic reader #gender neutral reader #neutralreader #rdr2 #fluff #sfw #ask

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lossdotzkee · 3 years ago

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Hello! I’m Zeke and I made this blog as a way to concentrate my journal, and also because I can’t slap pics from my phone into my notebook.

A bit about me:

I’m autistic, and have C-PTSD, depression, and anxiety.

My anxiety prevents me from leaving the house alone which is... challenging to say the least.

My disabilities have kept me largely frozen and sedentary for most of my life but I’m ready to change that.

I’m transmasc.

I love reading, writing, drawing and gaming and I’m big on fantasy.

I can’t change WHAT I eat very much due to autism, but I can change how MUCH.

Stats:

Height: 5′1″?

Start weight: 257.4 lbs

Goal weight: ~180 lbs

Goal loss: ~1.5-2 pounds a week

Goals:

Walk more

I want to be able to keep up with the rest of my family when we hike at Starved Rock

I want to take the hill we live on without getting out of breath

I wanna be able to walk for 10 minutes on the treadmill easily

I miss running

Eat less

I never learned how to eat proper portion sizes; my parents taught me to overeat

I want to feel satisfied with an actual proper portion size jfc

Cut back pop intake to every other day

Drink more water

I want to hit 64+ oz a day; usually I’m lucky to hit 24 oz

Read more, dangit! What happened to that kid who could devour 3-6 books a week?

Feel worthy to take up space

Because of my C-PTSD in particular, I hate taking up space when other people are around and therefore wait to shower, do chores, walk on the treadmill, etc until no one is home.

Put away clutter

As you can see, my goals are more life-style oriented than focusing on my weight, which is healthiest for me because numbers just discourage me. I am not very competitive, besides beating my own personal bests, which is... unfortunate.

What you can expect from this blog:

Selfies and comparison photos

Step counts and exercise logs

Weightloss and healthy goal thoughts(such as “I’ve decided to aim for 500 steps an hour” or “I’m taking this hour off because I killed it the rest of the day”)

Daily logs/bullet points

I’ll be posting a screenshot of my Fitbit results the the following day

I’ll pop in throughout the day with progress I’m happy with or things I need to talk about

Photos...

... of my cat, who I love dearly. We go outside sometimes, with him on a harness and leash

... of me spending time outside; books I’m reading on the porch, meals I’m reading on the porch, if I go hang out by the pond, etc.

... of my living space and kitchen, particularly as I work on cleaning up clutter and mess(before and after shots)

Encouraging posts? I’m a sideblog so I have to be selective of who I follow because I’m very AAAA about connecting my side blog to my main blog. Should have thought of that sooner, rip

Schedule:

Every other Monday: Weight day. Also, measure waist day(method: wrap string around widest point, cut, tape to wall)

First of the Month: Comparison pic day. Tuesday: Shower- please hold me accountable for this, my sensory issues make it very hard to commit to a shower.

Friday: Also shower.

Sunday: Take it easy day; Sunday goals will ramp up more slowly than the rest of the week.

#weightloss #weight loss journey #actually autistic #trans #lifestyle change

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qm-vox · 5 years ago

Text

The Dwelling Gods - A More Perfect Union

Previous Chapter: Sitting The Table

Human-Controlled Space (The Undivided Whole), Milky Way Galaxy (Orion Arm), 787 Unified Year (2863 Astra Federation Standard Calendar; Covenant Day)

We The People Of Planet Earth

Not all is well. It has not been well ever since the People’s invasion of the gataxians. We had underestimated the willingness of their aggrieved neighbors to come to their defense; even now Our citizens pore over histories, shift masses of data, claim mental bandwidth with which to argue amongst Ourself about how We could have so grossly mis-characterized the political situation between the xenophobes and their prey. Our libraries buzz with life, fed further data by forward intel posts, by contemplation and meditation, by after-action reports written by Ourself and for Ourself and to Ourself.

But what’s worse is the wound, the lacing, scratching thing in Our mind, the hurtful little slash around which We become I. We cannot be I; We The People Of Planet Earth stand united, without flaw or seam.

We, not I. I cannot be the People. I can only be a person.

It itches. There is no other word for it. It feels like such a small thing but all of Us suffer for it; Our hands move more slowly, Our heads shake as we go about Our work. The wound-thing that tastes like “I” drives Our citizens to distraction. The artwork being made for Our vaults and cities and ships skews dark; We can feel Ourselves working in bloody rust-reds, in off-blacks, in violent tangles of light and shadow that dizzy the eyes. Our previous blue period would be a relief at this point.

How did We get hurt? It had felt almost like one of Our semi-autonomous citizens, what Divided Humanity would think of as an officer, reporting in to sync subjectivities, but instead of the blissful transfer of information We were cut and scarred by the shrieking death-fear of two minds at once. One almost human, the other...

(Art-citizens slash red across the metal of Our fleets. A creche of writers begins typing gibberish far beyond the pale of even Our most recursive meta-textual works; harsh noise plays from the throats of Our musicians oh it hurts the memory hurts so much and yet We cannot stop picking at it can We)

Focus. We direct the attention of the People (I look - no!) to the war-front. The gataxians are being reinforced in numbers too large to be a mere defensive measure, and We are bringing Our own fleets to bear accordingly. War-citizens emerge from the cloning vats, and We re-task the autonomous to the needs of battle. If We do not miss Our guess, a counter-invasion is imminent. This could work to the advantage of the People; forcing the enemy to expend time and energy defending the borders will make them easier to cross and pillage of resources, and We may learn much from the mysterious and advanced benefactors of the butterflies -

- something is not right. We are -

Gripped, seized in my (mymymymy) mind by two minds, two minds like the last two minds that carved I into We and made me aware of my me-ness, my one-ness, of the betrayal of my purpose it’s like claws made of knives right in the soul why this how this it hurts -

The human-like mind starts dying immediately, flayed layer by layer by the sheer enormity of the being that is Myself, but that other mind, that thing, that fractal whisper, it has me.

Hello, hivemind, it purrs, its voice full of promise and secrets. This will hurt.

I start screaming from a trillion throats, and then I am, once again -

Caroline Morrison, New York City, 2679 CE

When had most of the meetings become silent? I/(We) struggle to remember when exactly all of (U)s had noticed, but I guess the actual smoking gun was when we’d all decided to start faking the minutes of those meetings. Juan’s still the secretary on paper, so most of his attention is currently devoted to diligently writing up lies about our plans to grow the company, a proposed investment in a marketing firm (W)e already own in all the ways that matter, something something office birthday...

The Chinese takeout on the table isn’t fake, though. Turns out operating the brain chips takes a lot of calories, and while Juan fakes the words we’re not saying out loud we (all) stuff our faces while the conversation actually takes place on another level.

We’re going to have a problem with the money soon April says into (O)ur minds; I can feel the chip in my own brain tingle pleasantly as it registers the communication. If we keep things aboveboard we’ll be bankrupt in two years, but going criminal -

The IRS would be on us in an instant. We’re too suspicious already I finish. This orange chicken is fucking amazing and it’s sort of unfair how into it I am while we’re having this serious conversation. And it’s not like we can onboard them without pulling that trigger early.

!xobile holds up his hand to get us to hold on a second; he’s having an epic struggle with a forkful of noodles and the noodles are definitely winning. After managing to defeat his nemesis he clears his throat (not strictly necessary but he’s only had his chip for two months, it takes some getting used to) and starts talking: I may have another option. Marketing is reporting that the movement to cure autism -

- He pauses while the rest of us make mental noises of revulsion -

- Believes that the Ross-Moore Chip could provide such a service. This customer base is wealthy, influential, and comes with prime endorsements from celebrities...a few of whom have expressed a willingness to undergo the procedure for PR purposes.

!xobile names a few figures for initial donations, but they pale in comparison to the potential gains. Once they’re chipped, those luminaries will understand the Mission, the Need for United Humanity to reverse the catastrophic environmental damage to Earth, to prevent another disaster like the loss of the Arkships. They’d give (U)s access to their social sphere and keep the wolves away from the door while we work...

Everyone else is thinking the same thing.

Fund it I/(We) order, and we all raise our little boxes of fried rice to toast with.

We The People of Planet Earth, 787 Unified Year (2863 Astra Federation Standard Calendar; Covenant Day)

I struggle and thrash, but this conflict is foreign to me (mememememe); no citizen has ever rebelled like this. Where are the weapons, how do I grasp this whispering thing that has me in those claws, in that late November grip that tastes like sad truths and cuts like a funeral dirge.

What a sad little mistake you are the thing whispers in a cruel, crooning voice. You don’t even know what you are not.

We (I) need to get Our citizens in order; We turn Our focus away from the claw-thing to calm the disrupted citizens, to soothe the bodies. From somewhere in the depths of memory I/We recall reading that control of the body is control of the mind, and We are far from in control of either it hurts why does it hurt so much.

A whispering laugh, and those claws, those shredding things of grief and fear, dig in deeper. She lives with this every day, and you can barely stand a moment of it. How long has it been since you felt pain, little mistake?

LET ME GO! I roar, and I realize my mistake too late; the claw-thing reaches into that moment of wrath and fear, and I can feel what I know being known by it, being learned and scraped and analyzed. No! No no no no no -

In desperation I grab at memories and drag my captor down with me, and then it is an earlier time and place again.

United Humanity, Sydney, Australia, 0 Unified Year (2076 Astra Federation Standard Calendar)

“We don’t see that you have much choice,” We say to the assembled leaders. This citizen wears a nametag that says ‘Gloria’, and they address Us by that name; We have long since realized that those who are not yet United respond better to the fiction of Division than to Our truth. “Your fleet is in tatters. You cannot sustain a defense against the numbers We can bring to bear on land. It is not Our wish to drag out this conflict or to be responsible for the loss of human life.”

The American gives Our citizen one of those knife-hand gestures so common among their lower officers, which makes a certain amount of sense; We own most of their former high command these days. “You’ll forgive me if I point out how farcical that statement is. Those poor souls you chip -”

“Are completely unharmed,” We interrupt smoothly. “Living productive and happy lives, with the best medical care and all of their needs seen to.” We straighten Our citizen’s collar. “We understand your concerns, but the Ross-Moore is a method of communication, nothing more. United Humanity represents what is possible when language barriers are wholly removed,” We add. Experience gained from millions of people makes the lie smooth and clean.

Murmurs, around the room. “Gloria” is the de facto hostage of the coalition government, but their alliance cannot last; already cultural friction erodes the morale of their citizenry, alongside the unchecked greed of capitalist holdouts who even now attempt to profit off of Our unification. They can be made to see.

“Gentlemen,” We say, “what can We do to convince you? We would rather not make grand threats; if We wanted to invade, We would have done so already. Surely there is a path to peace that we can all walk today.”

Those murmurs become contemplative. We wait, letting them talk, debate, murmur favors to be traded with one another.

When it feels right, We speak next from the mouth of the Australian Prime Minister: “How quickly could United Humanity supply food and medical relief to my citizens?”

“Gloria” smiles beatifically. “Within forty-eight hours.”

We The People of Planet Earth, 787 Unified Year (2863 Astra Federation Standard Calendar; Covenant Day)

That cutting grip is loosening (it hits like heartbreak on the last day of summer, like the last goodbye between old friends, oh it hurts -), but I can feel that thing rooting through my memories yet further, knowing what I know. War-citizen deployments, cloning methods -

Get out of there! I shriek as I feel it rifling through my artwork, my culture, the churches and holy places I preserved on Earth, the museums and vaults and -

It laughs at me. Laughs long and quiet, in that cruel, whispering voice.

Now what is all of this for? the claw-thing murmurs. What benevolent idiots your creators were, little mistake.

I hit back, lashing out, but something new is wrong; it’s dying, flaking away as the human-like mind struggles to remain in existence amidst the torrent of Myself. The feeling is like punching water that’s already going down a drain.

You have no right I accuse. The history of Divided Humanity must be -

That mocking laughter again: I’m dying now, little mistake. Let me show you something before I go.

An image, in my mind, as clear as if my citizens were there in the flesh: the Arkship Demeter, lost through an unstable wormhole. Dozens of species fill its halls, but prominent among them, participating in a solemn religious service is -

- is -

- Oh no.

Glory to the Phoenix, the risen children of Divided Humanity the claw-thing mocks with the last shreds of its strength, and then it is gone.

Across my dozens of worlds and thousands of space stations, United Humanity starts screaming.

#dwelling gods #fiction #soft sci-fi #critique welcome

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issasideblog · 7 years ago

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Introduction!

Well, um hello lolol~

How’s it hanging?

This is my first post on this blog, I’m not even sure if I’m going to post anything, but I guess it’s a good place to post my feelings and other things.

I have no idea how to start this, so I guess I’ll just link this post on my other blog, it’ll give a shorter explanation of what’s happening right now heh.

Okay, so hopefully you’ve read that if anyone does read this, or if future me reads this then hello, hope you’re Gucci now~!

Like I said in that post, I’ve been feeling quite down recently.

I’ve always been like this, but recently it’s gotten worse and I’m not entirely sure why, the only reason I can think is that I’m changing medication.

But it doesn’t really explain why I’m constantly sad, or empty/numb

Don’t get me wrong, I do feel happy sometimes, but not a lot.

I don’t have many friends, but I don’t mind to be honest.

I’ve always struggled with friends, this is apparently because I have Autism (there’s that too lolol~), so I’ve never really had friends for a long time.

But, I have one close friend (my best friend) the others are just people I hang out with at school, since I don’t really leave my house.

I don’t really like the others too much, I know that sounds mean. But I’ve always struggled with attachment.

I don’t get attached easily, especially after I found out that they were talking about me behind my back.

Every single friendship I’ve ever had has ended like that, so I kind of don’t trust many people.

I said above that I rarely leave my house, this is for many reasons I guess.

1. I’m scared of people.

That sounds kind of weird in a way if you don’t understand.

I hate meeting new people, and being around other people makes me incredibly nervous, but I don’t really show it.

I can’t make eye contact with people (another thing to do with my autism heh)

2. It triggers my OCD

This also sounds kind of weird, but I’ll explain.

I have really bad OCD (Which could also be part of my autism apparently) but I hate being touched, and as soon as someone touches me I feel contaminated and have to wash.

I can’t sit in any place, beside my bed without feeling dirty and having to wash.

Nobody can sit on my bed, or I have to change my bedding.

If I don’t shower I feel disgusting but sometimes I have no motivation to shower which makes me feel even worse.

3. I’m paranoid

I constantly feel like I’m being watched, no matter what I’m doing. I could just be sat in my room (like I am right now) and feel like I’m being watched. It stops me doing certain things (like exercising) and I have to change really fast.

Being outside triggers this even more, I feel like everyone is watching me and judging me, or that I’m being followed.

To be honest, I just prefer being inside. I feel safer I suppose, but not entirely safe.

My school life is even worse.

My grades are terrible, so is my attendance.

I struggle to get out of bed on a morning, because I’m exhausted, I have no motivation and I honestly don’t see the point, I feel like I’m not going to live long enough anyway.

That sounds like I’m going to kill myself, but I wouldn’t because it would hurt people I care about, I guess.

I find it hard to believe people care about me, but I don’t want to risk them being hurt.

But, I’m very clumsy and kind of self-destructive. I don’t really look after myself, and often miss meals and don’t eat or drink for ages.

Recently, I’ve started sleeping in school.

I’ll just be listening to the teacher talk and lose focus and just fall asleep.

I fell asleep in my exams, which I failed.

That made me sad, but no one knew heh, people that knew got mad/judged me heh.

I literally have no energy, so I try sleep whenever I can.

Min Yoongi who?

I have no motivation to try in school, even though I want to.

I haven’t done homework in three years, nor have I tried hard.

I don’t have good relationships with teachers because of this. They hate me heh.

I sometimes skip lessons, which makes them hate me even more.

My maths teacher now despises me because me and my friend didn’t go to her lesson and gave us a detention (which I couldn’t go to because I wasn’t at school because I was too depressed heh, but my friend did so she doesn’t hate her). But another girl skipped the lesson and didn’t get into trouble which I found rude.

Now my maths teacher treats me like crap and will pick on me any chance she gets which makes me feel like crap and stops me going to her lesson.

I’ve nearly been expelled three times, which was a rollercoaster lmao.

But the latest was last year:

Like I said in my other post, I have Bipolar disorder, which gives me severe mood swings.

During this incident, I was in a manic state, I literally couldn’t control myself it’s kind of like being drunk in a way?

Anyway, me and this teacher were messing around in maths and he said something that I can’t remember and my manic self (please remember I had no control over this, I couldn’t control myself) said

‘Screw you too’

I don’t even know what happened, but he got pissed and yelled at me.

Then sent me out.

A while later, my best friend brought my bag out and I got sent to the deputy head (I think that’s who he is I honestly have no idea lmao).

I later found out she brought my bag out because my actual maths teacher (not the one that sent me out) said if she brought me it, I’d accuse her of doing something to it.

Probably not wrong tbh

Yeah, so I got sent to the maybe deputy head, I don’t know guy for the rest of the lesson (it was my last period, so I could go home straight after). He made me, my best friend and our ex best friend stay behind, except my ex best friend ran off.

We both had to give a statement of what happened????

(This is kind of turning into me talking shit about my school whoops)

But then yeah, my best friend said she didn’t want to do it in case they lied against us, but she was forced to.

THEY DID LIE AGAINST US IT WAS RIDICULOUS.

Around this time, I was being forced to stay behind because I was missing school.

Apparently, it was to ‘catch up’ but I didn’t do anything besides sit there???

So, it was basically a detention, even though my reason for missing school was my mental illness.

Anyway, I was forced to write an apology letter to both teachers, even though I didn’t do anything to one of them?

The whole screw you was literally a joke??? I thought we were messing around which we were.

Anyway yeah, they refused to let me leave until I did it.

(I couldn’t get out without them letting me)

I can’t remember what I wrote but my head teacher had to help me because I refused to write it, because in my mind (and many others) I didn’t do anything wrong, I couldn’t help my actions and they knew it.

But yeah, I was forced to do this, and went home crying.

My parents were pissed.

I’m pretty sure they called the school and told them to retract the apology or something. I don’t wanna ask now lmfao.

So, them both the maths teacher and the other one that I said it to (he’s now my physics teacher and is nice to me??? but it’s gucci) hated me and so I stopped showing up to that lesson, and form (she was my form tutor)

EVERY MATHS TEACHER I’VE HAD IN SECONDARY HAS HATED ME WTH WHY AM I SO UNLIKABLE???

Anyway, my school didn’t believe me when my parents told them I had bipolar disorder.

The school phoned my doctor without us knowing, and asked if I actually had it.

My doctor phoned my parents because it’s confidential and they needed permission, which we gave.

But yeah there’s that too.

I have so many bad incidents in school what even

Because of my disorder and other shizzle, I have a lot of appointments, I miss a lot of school.

At one point my teacher (the physics/screw you guy. Why is he always in this? He’s nice now but still) told me I should cancel them.

I can be really suicidal and put myself and others in danger do you really want that, buddy?

But now, they’re demanding all letters of my appointments, but it’s confidential????

Like uh no go away, my mental illness don’t get your own they suck.

My PE teacher (I am so tempted to give her name because I really don’t like her but I’m not actual that mean, she also might see this and sue me lolol) is one of the worse for dealing with my illness tbh, despite the fact her brother killed himself.

This next part is probably gonna sound really attention seeky but meh, I’m just going to be honest here, because honesty is the best policy.

She treats everyone else really nice (except a recent incident with my best friend) but it comes to me and she’s horrible.

She ignores it, and/or blames it on me (this is another thing entirely ugh).

One time I was really depressed in physics (ITS THE SCREW YOU TEACHER AGAIN FGS LMAO) and he was like ‘I’ll email pe teacher and tell her’ but instead of telling her I was sad, he said I refused to work????

I was sat in the changing rooms, basically crying and she comes in and yells at me for not doing pe.

(side note: I don’t do PE because of my paranoia, insecurity and OCD heh)

I haven’t done pe in three years wth you know this???

Then she goes

“Do you want to talk about it? Never mind you never do.” and walks out.

I don’t like talking to others about my feelings, because in my mind they don’t care and I’m just a bother to them.

In year seven, I was forced to go to the school councillor.

She brought another girl (who for the record, is horrible and I really don’t like her).

She then started talking about my bipolar and saying stuff meaning the horrible girl knew all aboout my private stuff.

The councillor then went on to say my disorder is my own fault????

Apparently, I was just hanging around with the wrong people and not having enough confidence??

No, I have a mental illness, I can’t prevent it.

Trigger warning: self-harm

A few years ago, I used to cut myself (I don’t anymore) and my teacher was trying to force me to take my jumper off, and at some point, I got in trouble for cutting myself h e c c.

A few weeks ago, I told my teacher about how I was struggling with body issues and starving myself. She asked me how I was once but did nothing else.

If it wasn’t for my friend and parents realising I could have starved myself to death, and she would have watched it happen.

I even wrote a song about it recently and it was obvious it was about me, but my teacher read it (it was for an assessment) and said nothing.

Alas I cannot think of any more incidents at school, there are literally too many.

Ever since an early age, I’ve struggled with sleep.

I can go days without sleeping or sleep all day.

This sometimes actually depends on my bipolar.

If I’m manic, I can stay up for days, if I’m depressed I can and most likely will, sleep for days.

I also have something called delayed sleep phase syndrome (Jesus I have a lot of problems)

So, my sleeping schedule is messy.

It’s literally 7:30am and I haven’t slept even though I’m exhausted.

My whole life I’ve had low self-esteem.

I hate everything about myself.

This could be because I’ve been bullied my whole life.

One of my biggest issues is with my weight (You can probably tell where this is going so trigger warning)

I’ve always gone through phases of not eating for days, or rarely eating but recently has been the worse it’s ever been.

I was barely eating, I’d go days without eating, sometimes I would force myself to throw up.

I was constantly over exercising and sometimes I would lose all energy and I’d just collapse to the floor and couldn’t get up, but I’d still push myself.

I lost all my energy, which led to me sleeping at school, as you read above.

I even nearly fell asleep while walking home once.

I told my teacher this too once, not the whole thing, just that I was insecure and wasn’t really eating (like you read above) and she didn’t do anything.

Like I said, I have low self-esteem so I rarely like myself.

I constantly think my friends hate me, this is also because almost everyone prefers my best friend to me and leave me for her.

I think I’m unlikable, and honestly, I’m sure it’s true, no matter what others say.

No matter how many compliments and things I get, I never believe it, they just make me think I’m being pranked and people are laughing at my reactions.

I also get intrusive thoughts sometimes.

I’ll just be doing something and thoughts about me being worthless and other things like that will bombard my mind, or I will get thoughts about killing myself or killing others and I can’t stop it.

It’s just something that happens to me now, to the point it rarely bothers me.

I sometimes, not often, hear things and hallucinate.

This is rare though but has been happening more and more often recently.

They’re usually voices telling me my friends don’t like me, I’m worthless, stupid, they insult me and things like that. They also just repeat things I’ve heard during the day really loudly.

I’ve never really told anyone this.

I sometimes see flashes of faces and people in my sight, I’m not sure if that’s hallucinations but yeah.

Above I said that I’ve always had bad friends, besides now.

One of my worst was being bullied constantly, I don’t even know why I tried being their friends, I was very naive.

One of them still hates me rip.

He’s dangerous now so you know, kind of paranoid.

Another friendship was when one girl’s mother was a drug dealer and they all tried pressuring me into doing drugs and smoking with them.

I never did, I just came up with a lie it wasn’t hard to be honest.

They probably knew but who cares?

Earlier on I said I have paranoia (if it can be called that).

But yeah, I feel like I’m being watched all the time, no matter what I’m doing.

I’m not sure who, but I just feel like someone out there is watching me either through my window (so I always have my curtains closed), through my camera (so I always have them covered) or through a hidden camera in my room which I can’t do anything about.

I once hid under my covers because it got too much, but the feeling was still there.

I’m suddenly exhausted.

My mind has gone blank, but I’ll try post more I guess, if I remember, or have something to write about.

Thank you for reading!

I hope you have a good day/night! ^-^ <3

I’ve probably made loads of mistakes here because I suck hEH SORRY

#I need a nap #Mental health #mental illness #bipolar #bipolar disorder #anxitey #depression #paranoia #hallucination #hallucinatory #auditory halluctionation #insomnia

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gyrlversion · 6 years ago

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Son of Manchester United legend Paul Scholes found guilty of assault

Arron Scholes, 19 (pictured outside Tameside Magistrates Court today) left Robert Kemper, 21 with blood shot eyes and bruises all over his face after the unprovoked attack in Oldham, Greater Manchester last year

The teenage son of former England and Manchester United footballer Paul Scholes has been found guilty of beating up a former school friend then taking picture of his injuries during an unprovoked ‘happy slap-style’ attack.

Arron Scholes, 19, left Robert Kemper, 21 with blood shot eyes and bruises all over his face after the unprovoked attack on the day of England’s 2-1 victory over Tunisia in last year’s World Cup.

During the attack at the Granby Arms in Uppermill, near Oldham, Greater Manchester, Mr Kemper – who was drunk – was seen lying flat on his back and offering no resistance whilst Scholes beat him about the face.

The teenager – eldest of three children to the Old Trafford favourite – was then seen ‘jumping up and down and laughing hysterically’ before taking a picture of the victim’s injuries on his mobile phone.

Mr Kemper who had known Scholes from their school days together -remembered little of the attack himself – but said in the moments leading up to the assault, he recalled saying ‘hello- alright mate!’ only to get ‘very little response.’

Scholes a striker for Manchester league club Royton Town denied assault by beating claiming he was acting in self defence but he was convicted after a trial.

At Tameside magistrates court the youngster a sports marketing management student at Manchester Metropolitan University who lives with his family in a luxury property in the village of Grasscroft looked crestfallen as his 43-year old father and also his mother Claire watched from the public gallery.

He will be sentenced next week after a report is prepared to see if he is suitable for community work.

Arron was supported at Tameside Magistrates Court today by his footballer father Paul and mother Claire (pictured)

The incident occurred on June 18 last year after Mr Kemper had been drinking heavily after watching world cup match with friends.

Mr Kemper told the hearing: ‘I had gone to a friend’s house to watch the football match during the World Cup.

‘Then after we watched the football we made our way to the Granby Arms with two friends and we had a few drinks.

‘We had a couple of beers and a mini bottle of vodka, so I had one or two glasses of vodka and sprite.

‘I had one pint at the Granby Arms. I walked in with my friends, went round to sit down and I noticed Arron he was in the other side of the pub and I went round to say ‘hello’.

‘I got a very little response, thought nothing of it, walked away and went back to my friends.

‘I knew Arron from school. Me and my friends were just discussing and talking about the football and then played some pool and I then went out for a cigarette.

‘There was a couple of other people who came out but I can’t remember who was there.

‘I was having a cigarette facing away from the door when I started receiving punches, I didn’t know where it was coming from or who was throwing them.

‘I was just aware of walking out in a daze a few minutes later, I was still unsure of what happened.

Paul Scholes is pictured holding an umbrella as he arrived at Tameside Magistrates Court to support his teenage son today

‘I was very confused about that incident – I just knew I was struck a number of times and I had not hit anybody else.

‘I didn’t know who did it at the time but I found out shortly afterwards. Both my eyes were swollen and there was congealed blood in my nose and ears.

‘I had blood shot eyes for a few weeks, swollen tender cheeks, swollen lips and bruising for a week or so.

‘I saw Arron last at his 18th birthday party.

‘We had been friends at school. We had fallen out but had made up in regards to that.

‘I’m not sure of the events of the night, I just know the injuries I sustained. I was in a daze and unconscious for most of it.

‘I’m not sure whether the injuries or the alcohol affected my memory.’

The court heard after the incident Mr Kemper sent Scholes a barrage of text messages saying: ‘Lol imagine that you bloodied my face.

‘Lol I’m trying to sort things out with you.

‘P*****, go one on one. Say something. I have got a black eye, f***** speak to me then, say something p****.

‘Say something or are you bent.

‘P*** me off say something goon. You seen my eye you c***, actually mad.’

Under cross examination Mr Kemper denied claims he called Scholes a ‘p*****’ earlier in the evening at a different pub and asked him outside for a fight.

He added: ‘There was no reason for me to do that.

‘We had discussions about trying to repair our relationship.

‘There was no reason for me to try starting something out of the blue.

‘I remember him being with other people. After it happened I did call him a ‘p****’. I said ‘you’re a p**** for hitting me from behind’.

‘At the time whilst I was being hit, I didn’t have time to see who was hitting me. I was stood next to one of the tables outside.

‘The blows to my head were severe and friends told me I received a sustained attack.

Arron Scholes is pictured being lifted up by his father Paul after he helped Manchester United to Champions League victory in Moscow in 2008

‘I did not square up to him. He was restrained by his friend who preventing him from striking me again.

‘The details are quite hazy. I would see no reason to provoke him. He had many friends with him. I had no idea what was happening.

‘I had to have everything explained to me by other punters at the pub. I was stumbling about in the pub afterwards.

‘I got a taxi to the hotel near my house to disguise my injuries and my father came to take me home.

‘When I got home I did send him some messages which I do regret sending. But I did not start a fight.’

Prosecutor Miss Lucy Bridge said: ‘Mr Kemper had been drinking prior to entering the pub and he had been watching the football during the World Cup.

‘When he entered the pub he saw the defendant and thought to himself that he would go and speak to him.

‘Before speaking with him, he went to the bar and was served by the landlady, he got his drink, then approached the defendant and asked him ‘are you alright, mate’.

‘The defendant gave no response and Mr Kemper walked away with his drink.

‘He was served one alcohol beverage until approximately 10pm when the landlady informed the victim of how intoxicated he was and she would not serve any more alcohol to him.

‘The victim went outside for a cigarette and the next thing he recalled was being punched to the head.

‘He didn’t see who punched him and he said he felt lightheaded and dizzy after the attack.

‘The landlady went outside and she saw the victim on his back being attacked by Arron Scholes.

‘She was able to say that Robert Kemper did not retaliate at any time and she described the situation as an unprovoked attack.

‘They both parted ways with Robert Kemper going left and Arron Scholes going right.

‘Arron Scholes was spoken to by the police on 24 October, where he said he went outside to confront Mr Kemper but then acted in self defence as he thought he was going to be assaulted.’

Landlady Debbie Hardy told the hearing: ‘Rob came in and he had a drink and about 20 minutes later Arron came in. Another man came over and put his arm around him and whispered something in his ear.

‘That’s when Arron ran straight out to assault Rob. I ran out after him but he was punching Rob. didn’t see Rob do anything at all other than trying to defend himself.

‘I saw two other males pull Arron away. Rob was dazed and was looking around as if to say ‘what happened’.

‘There was blood on his face. Two lads restrained Arron but he was jumping up and down and laughing hysterically at Rob. He got his phone out and took a picture of Robs face then proceeded to punch him again.

‘He started laughing when he looked at the picture). He put his phone towards Robs face and then hit him again. Rob was stood with his hands down beside him. At no point was Rob being threatening.

‘One of Arron’s friends said that Rob had called him a ‘p***y’ but I said no one deserved to be punished like that.’

Scholes, 19, told the hearing: ‘Earlier in the evening he was shouting things and it became obvious he was shouting at me. He was giggling and shouting in my direction. I couldn’t hear what he was saying but it was towards me.

‘He got more and more aggressive as the night went on. He said I was a p***y because I wouldn’t come outside. At the Granby my friend came over and said ‘Rob just started on me as I came through the door’.

‘I went over to confront Rob but he looked drunk and angry. I thought he was going to hit me so I defended myself by hitting him before he hit me. Everything about him was threatening. I never had a fight before, I never punched anybody before. I was just panicked and in fear but I was not laughing hysterically. There was just a bit of a scuffle.’

But district judge Sam Goozee said: ‘What’s not in dispute is that you had both been drinking that evening but Robert Kemper was more candid about it than you. You seemed evasive when challenged and the only person being aggressive was yourself.

‘You have given evidence to paint the picture there was tension between you and Robert Kemper and that justified you punching him as you did but this is not supported by other evidence.

‘Maybe your own recollection is clouded by alcohol. There was no suggestion Robert wanted a fight earlier in the evening.’

Arron’s father Paul, 44, who was capped 66 times by England, won 11 Premier League titles and two Champions Leagues with United.

He has another son with Claire, Aiden, who is 13 and has autism.

Last September the football legend stepped in at his son’s league match against Stockport Georgians in the Manchester Premier League match when Royton found themselves short of players.

In his autobiography Scholes: My Story, the former Red wrote of his family: ‘For all the benefits that professional football has brought me, none of them would mean a thing to me without my family, my wife Claire, my sons Arron and Aiden, and my daughter Alicia.

‘My new generation of Red Devils are our three kids who keep Claire and me extremely busy, but we wouldn’t have it any other way.

‘I know I’m bound to say this about my own children but we think they’re brilliant and love them to bits. Arron and Alicia are fantastic with Aiden.

‘It can’t be easy having a brother in his situation but they cope with it brilliantly.’

The post Son of Manchester United legend Paul Scholes found guilty of assault appeared first on Gyrlversion.

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#Entertainment News

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autexhibitiondanielsu39 · 6 years ago

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Study: Nearly 1 In 3 With Autism Socially Isolated

Orsmond, G. I., Shattuck, P. T., Cooper, B. P., Sterzing, P. R., & Anderson, K. A. (2013). Social participation among young adults with an autism spectrum disorder. Journal of autism and developmental disorders, 43(11), 2710-2719.

looking at the experiences of young people who received special education services, researchers found that those on the spectrum are facing a particularly rocky transition to adulthood socially.

Nearly 40 percent of young adults with autism never saw friends and half were not receiving any phone calls or being invited to activities, according to research published recently in the Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders. Strikingly, researchers said that 28 percent had no social contact at all.

The social struggles of young people with autism were far more pronounced than those of other disability groups, the study found. While almost one-third of those with autism qualified as socially isolated because they never received telephone calls or went out with friends, fewer than 10 percent of individuals with intellectual disability and only 2 to 3 percent of people with emotional disturbance or learning disabilities fell into this category.

“Difficulty navigating the terrain of friendships and social interaction is a hallmark feature of autism,” said Paul Shattuck of Washington University who worked on the study. “Nonetheless, many people with autism do indeed have a social appetite. They yearn for connection with others. We need better ways of supporting positive social connection and of preventing social isolation.”

Friends and peers: children and teenagers with autism spectrum disorder

http://raisingchildren.net.au/articles/autism_spectrum_disorder_friends.html

Making friends is an important part of every child’s life, but it can be harder for a child with autism spectrum disorder (ASD). You can’t make friends for your child with ASD, but you can give her the chance to meet peers and work on social skills.

Why friendships are important for children and teenagers

Friendships help your child to develop socially and emotionally. They can boost your child’s self-esteem and confidence.

Having friends also gives your child experience in managing emotions, responding to the feelings of others, negotiating, cooperating and problem-solving.

Autism spectrum disorder and friendships

Children with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) tend to have a harder time developing friendships. This might be because they have trouble with:

starting and keeping conversations going

working out what other people are thinking and feeling

taking part in other children’s activities

understanding facial expressions and body language

adjusting to new social situations

solving social problems, like how to sort out disagreements.

Children with ASD might need help developing skills in these areas.

I’m not asking for my child to be the life of the party, or a social butterfly. I just want him to be happy and have some friends of his own. He is a wonderful kid, and I hope some day others can see that. – Parent of a child with ASD

Making friends: helping your child with autism spectrum disorder

Although you can’t make friends for your child with autism spectrum disorder (ASD), you can give her opportunities to meet new people and make friends of her own. Here are some ideas.

Find out what activities your child enjoys Identify your child’s interests and strengths, and help your child connect with children who enjoy similar things. This could be through a playgroup, after-school class, or special interest club. When your child does activities that he enjoys, it’ll also help him to keep paying attention when there are other people around.

Invite children home to play You can encourage friendships by inviting children home or out to play. If your child goes to school, you could try asking her teacher which children are showing interest in her, or which children share interests with her. You could also ask your child who she’d like to be friends with.

It can help to plan with your child the things that he might like to do with other children. Try to set up activities and games that are fun and encourage cooperative play. Some children do better with structured activities that don’t involve open-ended, imaginative play.

Some children feel more comfortable at home, but others might not want someone else to touch their favourite things. If this sounds like your child, you could put away the things that she doesn’t want to share or you could organise something out of the house. For example, it could be an activity that encourages a positive shared experience, like a trip to the playground, museum or aquarium.

VideoBeing friends with teenagers with autism spectrum disorder

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In this short video, 13-year-old Aiden talks about his friend Ellis, who has Asperger’s disorder. He discusses their shared interests, and tells how he looked out for Ellis at primary school. He says Ellis is smart, friendly, and ‘more organised than me’. His advice for other kids if they meet someone with Asperger’s is to ‘just be friendly to them’.Our article on

play and friendships for children with disability

has lots of information and tips on encouraging children of different abilities to play together.

Social interactions: helping your child with autism spectrum disorder

There are many ways you can help your child with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) learn positive social skills.

Help your child develop basic social skills Your child needs a range of social skills to make friends, including the ability to say hello, take turns, share and compromise.

You can help your child learn these skills by practising social skills at home with your child as you play games. It helps if you describe to your child the skills you’re modelling. For example, to encourage sharing and turn-taking, you might say, ‘I’m going to be friendly and share my toy car with you’, or ‘I’m going to have a turn on the swing. Your turn next’.

Social Stories™ can also be an effective way to teach your child skills like communicating and joining in with others. For example, a Social Story™ for ‘Talking to my friends’ might include the following points:

Sometimes I want to talk to people.

I can talk to children.

I can talk to my teacher.

I can talk to my family.

I can talk to other grown-ups.

When people talk together, they need to be near each other.

When I want to talk to somebody, I can walk over to the person, look at them and say the person’s name.

I wait until the person looks at me.

When the person is looking at me, we can talk.

Recognise and praise your child’s success Give your child lots of praise and encouragement when you see him interacting positively with others. For example, when you see your child offer a toy to another child you might smile and say, ‘Wow! That is so friendly. You shared your blocks with your friend and waited your turn’.

Rewarding your child with praise will help to build her social skills and self-esteem.

VideoInteracting with others: children with autism spectrum disorder

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31.3mb

In this short video, parents of children with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) discuss their children’s social interactions with other children. Children with ASD can’t always communicate easily, but they can still have good friends. Parents talk about the empathy and encouragement their children get from other children, and about growing awareness of ASD in the community.

One mum says, ‘If we build this awareness and build this understanding, it builds children’s ability to be more tolerant.’

Bullying, peer pressure and autism spectrum disorder

Children with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) are more likely to be the target of bullying than their peers.

This is because children who bully tend to pick on children who are quiet and shy and lack friendship skills. They also tend to pick on children who behave differently, or who have different interests, trends and styles from themselves and other children the same age.

Also, children with ASD might not know how to join in a group and might act in inappropriate ways, like wrestling, being ‘attention-seeking’ or dominating. Other children might find this annoying, and it can end up in physical or verbal clashes with peers.

And children with ASD might have trouble working out who are the ‘good guys’ and who are the ‘bad guys’. This means that they might be less likely to avoid children who bully in the playground. They might also believe what they’re told – for example, ‘If you do this, I’ll be your friend’.

To help your child avoid bullies and being bullied, try talking with him about why bullying happens and what he can do to look after himself at school and in other situations. A Social Story™ can also be a good way to explain this information to your child.

Do many autistic people talk more through text and social media than in person?

https://www.quora.com/Do-many-autistic-people-talk-more-through-text-and-social-media-than-in-person

Silver Oldham, formally diagnosed with Asperger's

Heck. Yes.

Pardon my language. For many autistic people, communicating over text is vastly superior.

We are usually far more eloquent in text, than in person. When speaking to another person face-to-face, there is little time to consider your dialogue before it is expected of you. But over text, we can take as much time as we wish before speaking. With more time to deliberate, we communicate clearly and effectively.

We experience less sensory discomfort, as well. Without having to listen to voices or look at people in the eye, it’s far easier to actually communicate without becoming anxious and overwhelmed

There also isn’t that pesky devil, body language. Neurotypical people commonly cite that “70% percent of communication is nonverbal” statistic. But, since autistic people can’t really read nonverbal cues, we miss that 70%. That means that, over purely-text conversations, we understand 100%, not 30%.

While we struggle with reading the tone in text, it can be easier to indicate tone over text than in person.

Strategic italics, boldings, or even using *asterisks*, (parantheses), and ~whatever these wiggly things are~ all help express tone over text.

In short? Yeah. Text is pretty great.

I hope this answered your question sufficiently. If you’d like details on which specific features Autistic people appreciate in text, or any more details in general, please reach out and let me know.

Marsha England, Special Education Teaching Assistant at Elementary School and Elementary Schools (2014-present)

I am only speaking for myself. I do far better in text than I do in person. Writing is my passion and so it is just natural for me to express myself better in text than in person.

I was a pen pal to my Grandfather’s youngest sister, my Great Aunt, in the last five years of her life. I have no memory of meeting her in person, but she knew far more about me than most do who are in my inner circle. Her daughter became my e-mail pal after she passed away and her daughter knows me pretty well too even though we have never laid eyes on one another.

I can be quite social with one person I feel comfortable with. I really enjoy one-on-one where the topic is one of my interests. But add another person to the conversation, it is like I have a mute button attached to me and it instantly turns on. Being with a group of people can be overwhelming and exhausting.

My ideal way of communicating with my fellow man is e-mail. It used to be snail mail via the U.S. Postal Service before AOL, Yahoo, etc. came along. The invention of e-mail was the best thing since sliced bread. I can write or respond to a message with more time to process what I’m going to say. Even if it is an unexpected or unwanted e-mail, I have the option of deletion or if I must respond, l have time to put my words together and edit them until ready to hit the send button.

Basically, if someone wants my best response to a question or my opinion on whatever, e-mail is their best shot! If one wants to get to know me, my blog website is the avenue to my heart.

“At times, it leaves me considering hermittery, resigning myself to but the barest bones of social interaction... but that's not what I want. I've pretty much accepted lifelong spinsterhood and childlessness, but I need some positive relationships in my life. I need friends; people who accept and like me for who I am. I am autistic, but I am no less worthy of friendship than anyone else.”

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gyrlversion · 6 years ago

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Paul Scholes arrives at court with his son ahead of assault trial

The teenage son of former England football star Paul Scholes laughed hysterically as he beat up an old school friend in a pub, a court heard today.

Arron Scholes, 19, left Robert Kemper, 21 with blood shot eyes and bruises all over his face after the unprovoked attack on the day of England’s 2-1 victory over Tunisia in last year’s World Cup, magistrates were told.

The alleged victim, who had been drinking, remembers saying ‘all right mate’ to Scholes Jr as he walked into the bar in Oldham, Greater Manchester, but says he got ‘little response’.

Later on, when he was outside having a cigarette, Scholes Jr started throwing punches at him, he claims.

The 19-year-old, who lives with his father Paul and mother Claire at the luxury family home in Grasscroft, appeared at Tameside Magistrates Court today where he denies assault by beating and claims he acted in self-defence.

During the attack Mr Kemper was lying flat on his back and offered no resistance as Scholes struck him in the face, it was claimed.

Magistrates heard Mr Kemper, who said he knew Scholes from their school days together, was so intoxicated on the evening of June 18 last year at the Granby Arms in Uppermill, that the landlady had refused to serve him any more alcohol.

Scholes Jr, a striker for Manchester league club Royton Town, was later charged with over the incident.