Should I send this?

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I've been not sure about this for days. I hate upseting people but thinking I should still just do it? Help? I've been not sure about this for days. I hate upseting people but thinking I should still just do it? Help? It's to my mum.
I've been asked several times this week what's wrong with me and I wrote this at the beginning of the week, my wrap book tells me to talk to people, to explain how I feel and I write a lot so I'd thought maybe I should write something that expresses how I feel. I can already hear you trying to ask what you can do, or saying you don't understand but that's not the point of this- it was easier for me to put this on Wattpad and let anyone read it than it was to show you so, please don't ask just listen.

WHAT YOU SEE BUT NEVER SAY

I know people see this, I know they think about it- they see what I'm doing but they don't say they are bored, they don't try to stop me. That doesn't mean it isn't said behind my back.
This is why I'm writing this, I'm not really sure what it is other than its about me and about what I do. I know my friends will read this, they might mention they have, they might not. The point is that I have expressed myself in writing still, but a different type of writing this is personal and fact and it is why I write.
When I take on a special subject, which is always one character by step two, it releases the same endorphins in my brain as it does to fall in love with someone. Right now knowing I have just taken on an old interest once more my heart is pounding far faster than it should, my whole body tingles containing a fuzzy feeling so good it's unbelievable. I struggle to sit still, to think on my own because it is so strong. I sat down to write an essay today but I could not concentrate, I watched a film instead the film related to my new love and was trying not to scream because the feeling is so strong.
There are three stages now that I have connected, although this is a bit different since I already know the character.
Stage one: latch on to a subject, thinking at a million miles an hour, thoughts literally flying around my head because there is so much I can do.
Stage two: I find one character and I learn like mad, find out she was twelve in the first book twenty one by the last. I write because my writing is the only way not to tell too much either that or I draw or I watch or read anything I can do to feed this amazing feeling. It's too good, so good I can't put it down, I'm racing for more right now.
Stage three: it begins to fade, it searches for anything similar it can grab onto and shove into my mind just like a drug addict I'll take anything to feed it. This time I've been thrown back into an old interest, I could feel it coming, feel it moving because they had the same name.
If its not fed for a long time the interest dies but I don't know a life without it, I can't do it I have nothing to do no interest in anything I need this feeling, I crave it.
It sounds great doesn't it? But it's not. Imagine people giving you weird looks when you can't shut up about something. Imagine what it's like to love something you know you are too old to even like. Imagine feeling so lost and hopeless when its over. My mum doesn't like them, as a parent of a person like me she is taught to disencourage my interests. I hate that I feel she never cares, she wants me to stop but I've tried and I can't. I really wish I could stop them but when I'm in one like I am now it is so,so good. I don't want to stop I want to let myself become my favourite character. I dress like them, speak like them, right like them. I do everything I can to be like the person. I'm not insane, no I am genuinely not I just do need this.
Supposedly it's a way to cope with the social barriers, supposedly it's something I can help, supposedly is my favourite word for those doctors, the ones who don't understand what it feels like to be asked if you understand a character is 'not real' they don't understand when your'e parents shake their heads or sigh deeply.
They don't understand the horrible time without an interest, or worse the horrible time when you don't know when it will end, when you don't know if you want it to stay or want it to go, when you don't know what you're going to get next. I didn't even know I could regain a previous interest till today. How long will it last? I won't ever know until its gone and already I fear it leaving me, I fear the reactions of people, I fear I won't get accepted for the latest story idea that I am trying so hard to hold back. I don't know what will happen next since they only show one connection, all my characters are strong, independent female characters, I've gone through so many: Annie, Heidi,Violet Bolregard (?)/ Sunny Bolregard, Susan Pevensie, Flower (the meerkat) Roxanne Mitchell, Sarah-Jane Smith, the roman mysteries series, a random harry potter character during our school week, Gwen Cooper and the last one to add to my previous list, Alice Cullen. I hate the list, I hate all the characters and actors I've left behind but I cannot help what I do. I have even tried to control it with my own secret diet changes but its not so easy. I wish it were easy but in the same breath I don't I wish people tried better to understand I love this feeling so much. I want it to stay this time, I'm praying it will stay with me for a while, praying so hard. But it might be gone by the morning. It could soon be gone forever.
This is not a story-if it was it would really suck- this is the real me and this is an insight into who I am and how it is as me. I hope it changes nothing and I am doubting puting this up but it's time I embraced the fact I can't change me you have to change you.

Sent from my iPod

Wow, that is so eloquent and well explained. You have to let your mother read it. If I had a kid I would like it if they felt that they could explain things to me that I didn't understand. You explain it so well too.

I used to have an obsession with Anne Shirley from Anne of Greengables. I wanted to dress like her. So I kinda understand.

But weirdly it's my Mom that is more prone to obsessions than me. She loves to talk about them and I let her.

As a mother, I would want my child to share something like this with me. I know not all mothers are like me, but I know I cannot be the only one, either. I love when my kids are able to verbalize something about their inner workings that I have not understood before. My only reservation is that you said your mom was taught to discourage your special interests, so that makes me wonder one thing about your mom: does she accept your autism as a normal part of your existence? Or does she want to rid you of it? The reason I ask is because if she accepts it, then she will almost certainly appreciate understanding what your special interests mean to you. But if she rejects it, this might cause her undue concern. I am not concerned about the effect on her, but more the effect on you. If she rejects your autism, she could misconstrue this into something that it shouldn't be. (I am not sure what, exactly).

Thank you for sharing it here, even if you never share it with your mom. I think the experience my son has is similar, whether it be with Pokemon or the characters from the Maximum Ride series. I appreciate that you helped me to potentially understand him better.

Good luck with your mom. And I loved Flower, too!

I did send it and I'm now feeling a bit stupid- my ireatable feels like its picked up again, I hate how it does this. But what I sent was longer here is what I actually wrote. A point I wanted to make is would you be inclined to say something about this? I didn't want her to come and speak to me but I think she probably will. I do dtill hate the anxious wait before she does come and speak to me.



I've been asked several times this week what's wrong with me and I wrote this at the beginning of the week (strangly when i felt I'd just reconnected and i felt properly happy) my wrap book tells me to talk to people, to explain how I feel and I write a lot so I'd thought maybe I should write something that expresses how I feel. I can already hear you trying to ask what you can do, or saying you don't understand but that's not the point please don't ask; just listen.

WHAT YOU SEE BUT NEVER SAY

I know people see this, I know they think about it- they see what I'm doing but they don't say they are bored, they don't try to stop me. That doesn't mean it isn't said behind my back.
This is why I'm writing this, I'm not really sure what it is other than its about me and about what I do. I know my friends will read this, they might mention they have, they might not. The point is that I have expressed myself in writing still, but a different type of writing this is personal and fact and it is why I write.
When I take on a special subject, which is always one character by step two, it releases the same endorphins in my brain as it does to fall in love with someone. Right now knowing I have just taken on an old interest once more my heart is pounding far faster than it should, my whole body tingles containing a fuzzy feeling so good it's unbelievable. I struggle to sit still, to think on my own because it is so strong. I sat down to write an essay today but I could not concentrate, I watched a film instead the film related to my new love and was trying not to scream because the feeling is so strong.
There are three stages now that I have connected, although this is a bit different since I already know the character.
Stage one: latch on to a subject, thinking at a million miles an hour, thoughts literally flying around my head because there is so much I can do.
Stage two: I find one character and I learn like mad, find out she was twelve in the first book twenty one by the last. I write because my writing is the only way not to tell too much either that or I draw or I watch or read anything I can do to feed this amazing feeling. It's too good, so good I can't put it down, I'm racing for more right now.
Stage three: it begins to fade, it searches for anything similar it can grab onto and shove into my mind just like a drug addict I'll take anything to feed it. This time I've been thrown back into an old interest, I could feel it coming, feel it moving because they had the same name.
If its not fed for a long time the interest dies but I don't know a life without it, I can't do it I have nothing to do no interest in anything I need this feeling, I crave it.
It sounds great doesn't it? But it's not. Imagine people giving you weird looks when you can't shut up about something. Imagine what it's like to love something you know you are too old to even like. Imagine feeling so lost and hopeless when its gone. I hate that I feel my family never cares, she wants me to stop but I've tried and I can't. I really wish I could stop them but when I'm in one like I am now it is so,so good. I don't want to stop I want to let myself become my favourite character. I dress like them, speak like them, write like them. I do everything I can to be like the person. I'm not insane, no I am genuinely not I just do need this.
Supposedly it's a way to cope with the social barriers, supposedly it's something I can help, supposedly is my favourite word for those doctors, the ones who don't understand what it feels like to be asked if you understand a character is 'not real' they don't understand when your'e parents shake their heads or sigh deeply.
They don't understand the horrible time without an interest, or worse the horrible time when you don't know when it will end, when you don't know if you want it to stay or want it to go, when you don't know what you're going to get next. I didn't even know I could regain a previous interest till today. How long will it last? I won't ever know until its gone and already I fear it leaving me, I fear the reactions of people, I fear I won't get accepted for the latest story idea that I am trying so hard to hold back. I don't know what will happen next since they only show one connection, all my characters are strong, independent female characters, I've gone through so many: Annie, Heidi,Violet Bolregard (?)/ Sunny Bolregard, Susan Pevensie, Flower (the meerkat) Roxanne Mitchell, Sarah-Jane Smith, the roman mysteries series, a random harry potter character during our school week, Gwen Cooper and the last one to add to my previous list, Alice Cullen. I hate the list, I hate all the characters and actors I've left behind I hate when I look back and I see a fan base has almost entierly disapeared and that I'm no longer one of the few ones left, but I cannot help what I do. I have even tried to control it with my own secret thought changes but its not so easy. I wish it were easy but in the same breath I don't. I wish people tried better to understand I love this feeling so much. I want it to stay this time, I'm praying it will stay with me for a while, praying so hard. But it might be gone by the morning. It could soon be gone forever.
This is not a story-if it was it would really suck- this is the real me and this is an insight into who I am and how it is as me. I hope it changes nothing and I am doubting puting this up but it's time I embraced the fact I can't change me you have to change you.

The reason I don't even think I want to go to the Halloween party, the reason I know I've spent all yesterday and today working on something that, so soon, doesn't matter anymore. The reason I have a whole collection of ruined note books because I don't finish the story but the pain of know in I've deserted it is too sore to be able to rub it out. The horrible teasing moment when an interest sparks like water on a plug but only for a few minutes- long enough to regain hope just so it can be snatched away. The reason I feel too embarrassed to admit what I'm drawing and never address my character by name when I'm at school as if thinking that name is a swearword but it feels to good to live without, and the times without it feel so bad it's almost hard to breathe, every thought is a tear and all there is is fear of what comes next and extreeme remorse for what you left behind. You can't bare to change the lock screen on your iPod or delete the related pictures it's too sore to deal with, you'd rather pretend it wasn't real, all the same symptoms to dealing with someone's death. A very real comparison for me emotions.
I try not to care what other people think, I try to act like its ok but I don't trust new friends, those people who haven't known me for long enough to see what happens. Each friend I gain is a risk. I try to listen, I'm told by some that I'm not that bad, that if my friends really thought I spoke too much then they would tell me to shut up, they don't, they never will and so I make them suffer as well. Some people don't let it rule their lives the way mine does but how do you stop it, how can you stop living something so much it changes everything about you? How can you deny something that is, in the simplest terms, love? How do you hide it and care at the same time? How do you deal with the colour beyond black that you feel every time you lose it? How do you deal with having nothing else at all, having only that one thing and then nothing, you slid back into the worst place where you've been so many times before, when all there is is crying and the feeling you are sinking to the bottom of the world. There is nothing I can do.