Actually Asten

When I was younger, people pretended to be my friend.

The boys made it clear they didn’t like me. The girls acted like they did — until I wasn’t useful anymore. They smiled to my face and rolled their eyes behind my back. I spent a lot of time wondering what I’d done wrong. Was I too loud? Too intense? Too weird? Too me?

I thought I had to change who I was to be liked.
To be enough.

And then, I grew up.
And I found him.

Myron didn’t ask me to shrink.
He didn’t need me to explain every part of my brain — because he has one like mine. Neurospicy, overthinking, passionate, chaotic… kind.

He gets it when I go quiet.
He gets it when I info-dump.
He lets me stim, spin, spiral — and still holds me like I’m whole.

Because I am.

There’s something so healing about falling in love with someone who doesn’t just accept you — they understand you. The parts that were used against you by fake friends become the parts that make your relationship stronger.

It’s love that doesn’t demand a mask.
It’s love that celebrates the special interests.
That notices your patterns. That knows what overstimulation looks like and doesn’t shame you for needing a break.
It’s a kind of safety I never thought I’d get to feel.

Daisy’s Corner:
“Neurodivergent love is ‘we both cried at the same Pixar scene’ core. It’s ‘I stim, you stim, we all stim for stimmy bops’ kind of magic. If your crush doesn’t understand when you need to hide in the loo at a party, they’re not The One.”

I didn’t get a prom.
I didn’t get a group of besties in matching hoodies.
But I got a partner who really sees me — the real me.
And that’s worth more than every school memory I missed.

From pretend friends to real love.
It took time. It took healing. It took learning to trust again.

But I made it.
And I’m so glad I waited for a love that felt like this.