So, here’s the deal. My brain runs on ultra-HD empathy
With surround-sound anxiety and zero buffering.
It’s called Rejection Sensitivity Disorder,
Which basically means every “we need to talk”
Sounds like a funeral march played by tiny violins.
It’s not clingy. It’s ASD-adjacent wiring,
The part of my neurodivergent brain that once survived
By decoding people like crime scenes, tone, timing,
Whether you said “Sure :)” or just “Sure.” (Yes, it matters.)
When you don’t reply to a message, I spiral.
When you say “Let’s chat,” I write my goodbye.
When something changes suddenly,
My head goes full detective: What did I do? Who did I offend?
It’s not that I don’t trust you, I do.
It’s that my nervous system missed the memo
About “assume the best.”
But when I can read you, when I know your rhythms,
When you’re consistent, clear, and kind,
The alarms switch off, and we’re golden.
Because here’s the secret: when I feel safe,
I’m relaxed, funny, unstoppable.
When I don’t, it’s like running code on corrupted data,
Glitches everywhere, emotional blue screens.
So if I ever over-apologise, over-analyse, or over-ping,
It’s not neediness, it’s a fire drill.
A quick “All good” or “No stress” resets the system,
And I go back to being my happy, geeky self.