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this world isn't built for those with negative spoons
it's hard to explain and simple at once. sometimes the world is too loud. too bright. too much. it used to only happen when you were forced into a schedule and close-quarters with people you only marginally tolerated for a week, but now it happens every other day. every other hour. headaches bloom behind your eyes and you think you can hear the tick of the clock in what others call silence.
sometimes you want to lie down, but you can't. people don't realize what you mean when you say, "i'm feeling ill." they stick thermometers in your mouth and flash a light into your eyes and conclude that you're lying. that you're not really sick.
but there are different kinds of sick, and people with the right brain chemistry don't really get it. can't really get it. someone once explained it as having a specific number of spoons, and you'd latched onto the explanation and never let go, because that makes more sense to others who need to know than a vague, "not today."
sometimes it works, but not always. you try, anyway, and try not to feel like you're the one who's broken when it doesn't work.
sometimes you want to lie down, but you can't. people don't realize what you mean when you say, "i'm feeling ill." they stick thermometers in your mouth and flash a light into your eyes and conclude that you're lying. that you're not really sick.
but there are different kinds of sick, and people with the right brain chemistry don't really get it. can't really get it. someone once explained it as having a specific number of spoons, and you'd latched onto the explanation and never let go, because that makes more sense to others who need to know than a vague, "not today."
sometimes it works, but not always. you try, anyway, and try not to feel like you're the one who's broken when it doesn't work.