My Ability To Recognize People Is So Bad That I Genuinely Dont Recognize Anyone. Also, If A Persons Race,

My ability to recognize people is so bad that I genuinely don’t recognize anyone. Also, if a person’s race, gender expression, and other things that impact how someone looks aren’t directly pointed out to me, I probably won’t notice at all.

I don’t consider this to be a problem. The only downside is that I can’t draw humans

I identify/remember someone based on voices, clothing, and hairstyle. Which is an issue, because all of these things can be changed at any given moment

I want to have a partner, but I don’t want to ruin anyone else’s life. I know I’m no good. And that I can’t change what I am. I just wish that the people who care about me weren’t imaginary.

This applies to friends, too. Everyone leaves in the end, and I’m not gonna pretend that I don’t know why. It’s because I’m not a good person. I know that.

People show up because they see me and think I’m who I pretend to be. They tell me that I can take my mask off around them. And like an idiot, I fall for it. I let them see a glimpse of what I really am. And without fail, they leave. Because what I really am is a monster. A wounded creature lashing out and biting at anything that gets too close.

Don’t show me kindness. I’ll fall in love. And I’ll end up destroying both of us.

I want so badly to go for a hike. To play guitar. To draw something. To play a video game. To work on my writing. Or just to read a fucking book. But I physically can’t. Being on my feet for ten minutes makes me feel like I have to lie down for an hour. My hands and wrists are too stiff and in pain to hold a book, let alone play a guitar. I try to look back on the good days, when I had the energy to do these things, but it was that I had energy, just that I forced myself to do things despite the pain. My depression is getting worse because I can do the things I enjoy. I hate this bed. I hate this room. I hate the fact that I can’t go anywhere or do anything. I hate seeing how my friends are all doing so well in life, having gotten the help they need and leaving me behind to suffer, still so unaware of the agony I face every day. Good for them, but I’ll never be able to have a good day. I’ve been getting worse, and no one sees it. I was taught not to complain, after all. And no one hears me when I try to tell them what’s going on. So I isolate. I stay in this room, in this bed all day. Because it’s easier than hurting myself just to try to be around people who can’t possibly understand what it takes for me to just be there.

Everyone repeat after me

STOP USING THE TERM NARCISSITIC AS A WAY TO INSULT SOMEONE

NARCISSISTIC PEOPLE HAVE FEELINGS TOO

WE DONT LIKE IT WHEN YOU TAKE OUR DISORDER AND USE IT TO DESCRIBE A SHITTY PERSON

USE EGOTISTIC OR A WORD THAT ISNT DEMONIZING A DISORDER

Wait, that’s not a singlet thing? Uhh… hold on a minute… I don’t just have a lot of imagination? Umm… well… that’s… something to think about

median culture is. what. what do you mean we're not just a singlet with very frequent derealization/depersonalization/dissociation episodes and a history of holding conversations with our 'imaginary friends' and OCs. doesn't everyone do that <- something we told ourselves for a while

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Me when I’m still tired after 8 shots of espresso in one sitting

don’t bully me for how i spelled delicious