I am autistic. I’m the awkward sort that is obviously impaired but not in a way that is completely unexploitable. Due to my inability to fully socially mask, people are often immediately uncomfortable around me. Maybe they identify me as rude, apathetic, or somehow angry at them for some inexplicable reason. Yet, I have a completely over-the-top sense of responsibility, and I will pull through on any obligations put on me, regardless of how difficult they are for me or how much of a negative effect they may have on me.

So I am deemed high-functioning, because despite living in a society that is about as inhospitable to me as the desert is to a fish, I work myself raw to survive in it. I work myself raw JUST to survive in it. I am not thriving. I am permanently exhausted, have several physical health issues resulting from it, and have an overwhelming existential depression from watching my life drain away without having been able to live it the way that I need to.

I am not hopeless, and that’s what keeps me going. My brain insists, despite everything, that life is a puzzle to be solved, that there is a solution and that I will find it.

16×20 acrylics

Progress Snapshots