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@SoulfullyAButterfly

@DarkerPlaces

@teenytinyturtle

@LoveMyMoonflowers

@EchoTheDragon

@Sunisshiningandsoareyou

@Littlebear00

If I missed out anyone else, please feel free to tag them! 💙

@calmmoon2104

wohooo, love this post!! I want to share the first chapter of my current project - a story based on me. Sorry, it took the paragraphs out when I copied it.

1

Tilly’s knuckles were white from the grip she had on the straps of her schoolbag as she stepped off of the bus. The bus was always an overwhelming shock to the senses, especially first thing in the morning, but it was more like a glimpse of the chaos to prepare her for the rest of the school day.

Through the double doors walked a steady influx of people and Tilly was one of them, like train carriages through a station, a blur of blazers.

Walking straight through the main block where friendship groups congregated and students thrust their bags into lockers, her legs automatically took her straight to the learning support hub – the only place of respite, yet half the time this seemed like the ideal meeting spot for the loudest, most excitable children in the school.

Tilly’s usual table wasn’t empty, but she forced through the uncomfortableness, swallowing the slight rise of panic about not knowing where to sit. Fortunately, she was still able to sit in her usual chair that she had claimed as her own on the first day of the new term, so she could see everybody. Anyone coming in through the door, people walking past outside, and the perfect view of the whole room made her feel more at ease.

“Morning Tilly” said one teacher, two teachers, three. She smiled and wished good morning back, relaxing slightly, her shoulders no longer quite so tight and tense. The learning support staff were the only people Tilly thought even began to understand mental health and neurodivergence.

It was only a few minutes before the bell went for tutor, and it felt like only a breath between tutor and the next lesson.

The corridors alone were like a battleground, a place where you had to fend for yourself, and if you paused to look back for your friend, the likelihood was that you’d be shoved backwards, someone else’s bag pressed against your face.

“Give me my tie!” a tall boy with dark locks of hair roared as another boy took off down the corridor and outside with it. The chaos that unfolded outside was the scenes the teachers never saw.

Tilly tried to focus on one thing at a time, but the noise felt amplified inside her head. It was overwhelming. No wonder the young Tilly used to spend hours outside of the classroom crying. ‘Just anxiety’, they’d say. ‘Less emotionally developed’ was their second favourite phrase, which Tilly felt was an insult. But it wasn’t a switch she could turn off. If only she had known the reason. Being autistic. She had always known she didn’t fit in, just not *how*.

What did everyone else hear and see, she wondered? Maybe it would be more peaceful, certainly less overwhelming. But music – would they be able to hear the beautiful harmonies, delicate ornamentation, both individually and together in a piece? Would they hear the chorus of birds in the morning? The sound of rain? Or would it just fade into non-existence.

“Silence!” the teacher called as they entered into the science lab, except it wasn’t silence for her. The click of pens, the ticking of the clock, the rustling of paper, the lawn mower outside. What even was silence? It was like doing a maths test while sat on a busy road in the middle of rush hour.

Tilly placed her rucksack under the table as she sat down on one of the wooden stools. The stools had seen better days; the joints squeaked, and legs wobbled. Tilly’s legs were too short to reach the floor, but her feet were at the right height to rest on the bar of the stool.

Biology lessons were Tilly’s favourite, loving to learn how the living world worked. There was a lot to remember, but she tried to pace herself, and not let the stress take away from her enjoyment. Since GCSEs, she had dropped to near the bottom of the class despite trying so hard.

Flipping over her notes from yesterday that were illustrated with neatly drawn diagrams detailing different biological processes, she reached a blank page in her notepad and jotted down the date in the corner. The teachers used to be really particular, insisting you underlined both the date and title and the date always had to be on the right, written out in full. Now in sixth form, it didn’t matter so much, she kept her notes tidy for herself, no one else.

As the lesson continued and Mr Davies requested they use the textbooks, Tilly collected one of the weighty books from the shelf to share with Ellie and Luke, who she sat inbetween.

“Turn to page two hundred and ninety-seven, please”.

Ellie found the page for them and replaced it in the middle of the table. Ellie always wore a beaming smile on her face and was enthusiastic, lifting Tilly’s mood. The three of them often joked together and chatted about random details of the world. Luke showed an interest in her hobbies, as did she in return. This she was grateful for.

Mr Davies stopped in front of her, checking her work. Teachers seemed to all have perfected the art of reading upside-down. He was wearing his usual attire – a shirt and tie, smart trousers, and cycling shoes. At least today his bike wasn’t propped up against a wall at the front of the classroom.

“What did you get for question six?” he asked. Tilly raised her head, pencil poised over the page, to look up at the teacher and answer the question.

At the shrill ring of the bell, everyone stood up abruptly, packing away and thanking the teacher as they left the classroom, turning right to go to the sixth form centre.

Tilly had a niggling feeling of guilt as she turned left instead, towards learning support. She should spend more time with her friends, she thought, have some interaction with other human beings, rather than sit on her own on the floor. She told herself she’d get more studying done on her own, but there were few excuses for lunch and breaks.

Only five more hours before she could go home, two more lessons, and loads more social interactions.