On the other hand, where else could joy my messed-up brain to connect everytging with everything than in a self-created universe of texts in a net of different websites?
Isn’t it wonderful for someone like me, whose life ks about to explain myself meticulously (also dessperstely) to avoid misunderstanding and mjsinterpretstiom to havethis opportunity to display the complexity of anything I wish to tell to the people?
Yes, of course, I’ve learned it on the harder way, that these constant desperste attemts to avoid misunderstanding and misinterpretation usually make me even more suspicious in the eyes of neutrotypical people which usually causes even more devaststing misudgement and misinterpretation.
But at least the illusion that I have a tool what in iden cases can help me, makes it a bit easier.
Otherwise my life would be just a dark and depresive misery. Always misjudged, always misinterpreted, always misunderstood. Constantly gaslighted and bullied.
When I casually mentioned few days ago that while writing one post Imopemed seversl mee tabs and started writing several other post strong related to the one I started first, is one those moments I feel the illusion I can manage it.
It, I mean everything, my whole life. I can reach my aims, realise my plans. I just have to get throught that tiny litte obstacle that people always put me in a different comtext than I do myself, which creates awkward misunderstanding. I contextualise myself is a very easily proofable way,
hey,look, here is everything written down clearyl, plainly, but thhorught the way of connecting my webstes with different topics, also. in its complexity and multifaceted way,
so after you read it all I can hope that you wold misunderstand me.
On the other hand, of course there is this postmodern attitude to delibareteli overwrite something. Like creating a hyperrealost painting thst is so detailed that you can’t see the whole picture anymorey you’re completeply lost in the details.
So ar the end I stand where I started, people can acpture onky detsilsy drsmemts of my life (as do aversvody with every other people’s life) what opens the door to the terrifying possibilities of being misinterpreted and miscontextualised.
But at least for a short time I felt hope and joy to being able explaining myself.