Swipe Left On Perfection

I can no longer deny the truth inside my bones:

I am disabled, though a “high-functioning” mask is shown.

I struggle in the open, I struggle in the dark,

I just wanted you to check in, to tend to the spark.

My mind built a future of facing the weather,

A desperate, simple wish to do this life with one another.

My mistake was just being myself, beautifully misunderstood,

Autistic in a world that rarely sees the good.

I told you of the abuses, the shadows at my door,

And you just told me to endure it—to quietly take more.

But you can’t tell a soul in burnout just to push on through,

When the meltdowns are a tidal wave I’m drowning under, too.

I couldn’t be your manic pixie dream girl, flawless and bright,

I am not perfect; I was only curious and questions in the night.

Where I went wrong was turning my lens to analyze you,

I wished I could have stayed blind to the things I finally knew.

I hurt your feelings, and you heard my regret,

But you painted a villain to help you forget.

I am sorry you witnessed my lowest descent,

The meltdowns, the breaking, the energy spent.

But it’s no longer my responsibility to blame myself for someone not taking the effort to understand my neurodivergence.

People are going to judge me by neurotypical standards. Especially when they’re still masking. The habits of people pleasing run deep, without asking.

I wished you had let me hold space for you, too,

But a flooded cup has nothing left to run through.

Instead of the work to repair and to stay,

We folded our hands, and we threw us away.