Charlotte Amelia Poe

there’s no bravery without fear, no courage without that awful lump at the back of your throat and the turning of your stomach.

you will survive.

it’s been thirteen point seven seven two billion years since you were created, and you are fucking cosmic. you have shone in night skies before day and night existed. you are a fluke, a chance, something so utterly unlikely that the odds are incalculable. and yet there you stand. a miracle

you will see everybody else and find yourself lacking

that people are cruel for the sake of being cruel

you will push yourself further than you thought you could survive, and you will survive.

you will survive.
you will survive.

please, if you do feel you or someone you know is autistic, chase that diagnosis and don’t give up until you have it. Don’t give up after you have it either. Autism, unfortunately, is a life of never giving up.

There’s this tiny part of me, often buried, that screams that I need to go.

It’s just—frustrating—for want of a better word, to see you move around this world so easily, while we struggle every day just to be perceived as ‘normal’.

Isolation is a big part of autism, and I will talk about it more later, but that was when it really began for me. I didn’t hang out with friends, and when family members or family friends came round I would go to my room—the only people I saw were my mum, my dad, Rosie and Joe.

I wanted an escape route. I didn’t want to carry on. For the first time, I actively wanted to die.