I Wish My Brain Could Switchoff

Pretending to be neurotypical isn’t just me supressing stims that once provided me with comfort and joy or wearing my earbuds discreetly.

 

It’s my dad yelling at me calling me lazy, dumb, or just ignorant despite him being in SpEd classes in the 60s

 

He told me how he pretended to read in school by memorizing the words to the story. 

 

He was almost held back for a second or third time. 

 

I don’t remember.

 

He never remembers. 

 

It’s my mom jumping in the shower at 7:30 when we have to be in school before 7:45 and she has to be at work by 8.

 

“Great, now we’re both late!” - we both have said that to eachother.

 

They both told me and my brother to practice to go to bed early towards the end of summer for school in the fall, only he listened.

 

Now I understand.

 

I had a bloody nose from stress because dad invited a friend last minute. I was 11.

 

In the same beat, he’d scorn having friends just “pop in”. As if they’d stolen from him.

 

But time is money I guess 

 

I was 5 and my friend said I talked weird. I told her I didn’t know what she’s talking about. She asked me if I could even hear myself speak and I should fix it or something. 

 

Or something.

 

“Can you hear yourself talk?!? Are you even listening to me?!?”

 

I can’t and I won’t either.

 

Bumblebee is my favorite transformer because he is a Beetle  

And I like Beetle cars 

 

I wish I had one.

 

My Beetle car piggy bank broke months ago.

 

A family friend said if I filled it up I could by my own.

 

She gave it to me 10 years ago.

 

Now I don’t see them drive around anymore. 

 

I spoke like Bumblebee in the Bay movies. 

 

Broken midi and references.

 

That only my vietnam war teacher from high school understood. (I wish I could remember his  name).

 

“I’m sorry for the buzzing noise but it should hold you guys over for now” when my brother gave us his old speakers 

 

What buzzing noise?

 

Why can my roomie hear it too, but I can’t? 

 

He used to keep track of me like a stray dog.

 

Because he has the same thing too.

 

“Why are you sitting down? You’re gonna be in the couch for hours now. We both have stuff to do.” 

 

We is now, just me. 

 

It’s my Assistant principle giving me detention for coming in late everyday when I live four blocks away. 

 

He told me he grew up off Laurel st and went to Central too, so I had no excuses. 

 

It’s him silently judging thinking, “why does it take her so long to get ready? When she obviously doesn’t put effort into herself” as I sat in the chair: face unwashed, brushed out frizzy curls, baggy jeans that are two sizes too big, a band t shirt I got at 11, teeth brushed (not the gums). 

 

It’s me and my brother carrying matching Mountain Dew gallon bottles with us. With teachers scoffing and classmates asking “how do you sleep when you drink that all day?” 

 

We both got gingivitis that year. 

 

I could‘ve slept, I just couldn’t get off of tumblr before 3 am. 

 

I was talking about rocky horror again

 

Because my friends are tired of me repeating the same things over and over.

 

Or 

 

“I can’t listen to them anymore because you won’t shut up about them.” 

 

Or the exchange student I made friends with introducing me to HIM. 

 

Liking THAT one song 

 

I forgot about him

 

Just to remember years later.

 

And now I listened to that song 84 times last year, and 98 the year before that. (Im proud of it too.) 

 

Razorblade romance came out in ‘98

That’s where my favorite song is.

 

That’s the year my brother was born, but he’s my *irish* twin. 

 

It’s 11 pm now, I was supposed to go to sleep an hour ago when I finish this (Poem).

 

It’s my dad rewatching the same movies he’s been watching since they came out.

 

Dad grounded me from watching Moulin Rogue and Rocky horror once because I wouldn’t stop watching and it over and over and over again.

 

I introduced him to a new show, now it’s the only thing we’d talk about.

 

It’s the only thing I can talk about with him.

 

It’s the persona I put on, like him, the life of the party, when in fact I feel dead inside.

 

Expressionless, cold, and uncanny. 

 

“Why are you so quiet, now?” 

 

It’s 11:11 pm now (make a wish! I wanna see him again).

 

I have work at 8 am tomorrow.