Thylacity

Being online schooled, I don’t leave the house often. That’s why I love weekends. Me and my dad hangout and go to pet and book stores, go get lunch maybe, and it’s fun. I generally like to get all dressed up, because I never have an excuse to normally.

Yesterday, as I was getting ready to head out, I had a bit of a shoddy makeup day. Happens to the best of us, I was trying something new, and forgot I had run out of makeup removal wipes. As I was rubbing a wet rag roughly on my face, I thought back to conversations me and my mom have had about my appearance.

I’m fairly confident in my looks, most of the time, though that is a very new thing. My mom used to tell me about how I could’ve been a model. That’s what parents are meant to say, they are meant to compliment their kids and make them feel good. It never really made me feel good, though. There was something about how she said that. I *could’ve* been a model. Not now. And she’d end that sentence with “but you didn’t like cameras”.

She’s right, I hated them. The flash made me cry, and I couldn’t stand having to look at specific areas. And I don’t think I could be a model, I never even wanted to be one. I think it hurt me because, at the time, I was really angry at myself. I thought that, if I wanted to be one, I couldn’t because of something I didn’t even do.

I used to be really angry that I wasn’t like the other kids. I always kind of knew I was “different”. It was in the way my parents treated me, how my extended family talked about me, and how my teachers looked at me. Today, I’m happy. I’m proudly autistic, and although I struggle sometimes, It’s okay. I’m happy. But back then I was really angry, I thought I couldn’t do something because I was autistic, and as we all know, not being able to have something makes you want it more. Even if you didn’t really want it, and you’ve convinced yourself you cant have it.