Sakura.
NienawidzÄ™ siebie.
- May 1, 2024
- 164
On Wednesday, I had a so-called consultation at the university with my master's thesis advisor. I expected someone from my seminar group writing their thesis with the same advisor to come, and I was very hopeful that I wouldn't have to meet these people, and indeed, none of them did. But unexpectedly, three girls finishing their first year of studies (I'm currently finishing my fifth) showed up to the consultation to complete an exam in a different subject with the same advisor. Generally, no one ever comes to these consultations, so the fact that we "met" while waiting for them was a big surprise for both of us. Wouldn't it be natural in such a situation—seeing the unexpected sight of someone else (me) also waiting outside the office for these consultations—to say hello, ask if I was also waiting, and ask if the advisor had arrived and was perhaps already inside? It would have been. But all three girls, upon arriving at the same office, stood there as if I didn't exist, as if I were a ghost. Even people who don't know me at all recognize right away that I have autism or that something else is wrong with me and treat me that way.
And for five years, everyone in my year of college treated me in exactly the same way. Even though they all knew me, they treated me as if I were a ghost, as if I were invisible, as if I didn't exist at all. No one ever even said hello to me—let alone more valuable things like being friends with me, talking to me, or writing to me. And I know you could say I could be the first to say hello and initiate interaction, so it's my fault, but it's really not. The fact that it seems this way is a result of their attitude. And I can't initiate interactions with them myself, because the interactions I initiate never work. I can only interact if the other person wants to interact with me and initiates it—which absolutely never happens.
I was waiting for these three girls to finish their exams, and while I was doing so, I saw another picture. I went to the other end of the corridor to sit down, and thanks to that, I noticed two more girls also waiting for some sort of consultation. I wasn't listening to their conversation, but at some point, my attention suddenly snapped to attention because I subconsciously sensed from a sentence that they were about to discuss smoking, even though it didn't imply anything of the sort, and indeed, I was right! I can't quote the dialogue, but it involved a funny situation involving a strange lack of timing during what was supposed to be smoking together. The girl was saying that her male friend had already finished smoking, while she had just started her cigarette, and that "I'm not going to throw the whole thing away," and she started giggling with her female friend. She was standing around the corner of the corridor, but at the same time, both walls of this corridor had windows, so I could see her when she turned to the window at that moment. She may not have met the absolute ideals of beauty, but she was still incredibly beautiful.
A person like her could smoke with a friend of the opposite sex and flirtatiously chat with him. I couldn't. She could even smoke alone and still be adored for that alone—as my comment shows. Her smoking would arouse positive excitement in others, even though her very next sentence indicated that she was only 30 minutes from smoking her last cigarette and already suffering terribly from nicotine cravings. She would have loved to run out of the university building to smoke again, but she still had to wait for those consultations. Probably, once they started, she was just waiting for them to end and for her to finally be able to smoke again. Great… I know all this, and yet I still get excited about it. Even though, in my case, my smoking wouldn't be an object of adoration, but of disgust—myself included. Just like my conversation with someone, or absolutely every action I take.
When you're beautiful and neurotypical, you're adored. When you're repulsive-looking and autistic, that's the only reason you're always disgusting. You're not even human. You're a monster.
And for five years, everyone in my year of college treated me in exactly the same way. Even though they all knew me, they treated me as if I were a ghost, as if I were invisible, as if I didn't exist at all. No one ever even said hello to me—let alone more valuable things like being friends with me, talking to me, or writing to me. And I know you could say I could be the first to say hello and initiate interaction, so it's my fault, but it's really not. The fact that it seems this way is a result of their attitude. And I can't initiate interactions with them myself, because the interactions I initiate never work. I can only interact if the other person wants to interact with me and initiates it—which absolutely never happens.
I was waiting for these three girls to finish their exams, and while I was doing so, I saw another picture. I went to the other end of the corridor to sit down, and thanks to that, I noticed two more girls also waiting for some sort of consultation. I wasn't listening to their conversation, but at some point, my attention suddenly snapped to attention because I subconsciously sensed from a sentence that they were about to discuss smoking, even though it didn't imply anything of the sort, and indeed, I was right! I can't quote the dialogue, but it involved a funny situation involving a strange lack of timing during what was supposed to be smoking together. The girl was saying that her male friend had already finished smoking, while she had just started her cigarette, and that "I'm not going to throw the whole thing away," and she started giggling with her female friend. She was standing around the corner of the corridor, but at the same time, both walls of this corridor had windows, so I could see her when she turned to the window at that moment. She may not have met the absolute ideals of beauty, but she was still incredibly beautiful.
A person like her could smoke with a friend of the opposite sex and flirtatiously chat with him. I couldn't. She could even smoke alone and still be adored for that alone—as my comment shows. Her smoking would arouse positive excitement in others, even though her very next sentence indicated that she was only 30 minutes from smoking her last cigarette and already suffering terribly from nicotine cravings. She would have loved to run out of the university building to smoke again, but she still had to wait for those consultations. Probably, once they started, she was just waiting for them to end and for her to finally be able to smoke again. Great… I know all this, and yet I still get excited about it. Even though, in my case, my smoking wouldn't be an object of adoration, but of disgust—myself included. Just like my conversation with someone, or absolutely every action I take.
When you're beautiful and neurotypical, you're adored. When you're repulsive-looking and autistic, that's the only reason you're always disgusting. You're not even human. You're a monster.
