I wish I had a person. I wish I had someone, like everyone else, that I could turn to. If I'm ever in distress and need someone, I feel like I disgust them to their core. I feel like I'm in the Sims watching our friendship points decrease before my very own eyes. Sometimes I fantasize about being someone else's person. I help my brother, but he's my brother, and we don't talk about our deepest fears, regrets, and what we truly long for.

I hear girls talk about how they can get a friend over with ice cream and a sappy movie, even if that friend was incredibly busy. I can't really make friends, I've had the same two best friends since middle school. We don't even relate to each other anymore, and they aren't fond of the other. I still couldn't call on them without feeling guilty and they've never done that either.

When I was younger, I hardly had any friends either. I remember being ten in the fifth grade, so interested in drawing, painting, and sketching. The classroom seating arrangement had just been changed, so I wanted to talk to the people at my new table. There was a boy next to me–his name was Gavin–and he said “oh great, I’m sitting next to the drawing girl again” in the most exasperated tone. That really hurt.

I remember another time, maybe a year earlier, another boy told me “I’m glad your mom is dead.” I didn’t even know him. I also didn’t know why people avoided me so much. I actually don’t remember a lot about my childhood, my mother died when I was eight and the three years after it are extremely foggy.

Maybe it was that my father disserviced me the moment of my conception (he was 55, and social impairments greatly increase in older men's offspring). But that answer is too easy. Sure, the house was quiet because my mom left him when I was 2. Sure, he was too old to form a meaningful connection with me.

If you have an older father, you know you have to parentify yourself. The age gap is too strong. You have to take on the domestic and emotional caretaking role that your father doesn’t have. I’ll talk about something funny here to lighten everything–fatherless African Americans join gangs because their home environment lacks the support and structure that a father provides. They’re thrown into “adulthood,” despite being children. The space they’re supposed to have for play and experimentation is destroyed.

Sometimes I read works I wrote as a teenager. It makes me sad. One excerpt: “The house is filthy, the floor covered in coffee/food stains, paper everywhere, food crumbs, trash, etc. When he spills something, he texts me to come and clean it (ex. blueberries all over the floor) or does nothing. He does not like the smell of cleaning products so I am time-limited with what I can do. Stuff left on the counter by him is left to rot for weeks on end if I do not handle it … I feel like the woman of the house even though it is not my job and I am still a child. I have hardly ever received support from him, I had to set up and lead all my drivers appointments, permits, license, ID card, social security card (he lost it). He would hang in the background or lobby while I sat with the other adult and presented my documents. I keep them in my room as I only trust myself to keep them safe. I have no clue what to do.” I wish I could’ve been a child.

I think I was bullied for a good six years of my childhood. I definitely wouldn’t let that happen today, but God, people love to kick you when you’re down. There’s a human development stage called “Industry vs. Inferiority” where children master their social skills around ages 6-11. If children experience repeated failures, they develop a sense of inferiority and become reluctant to try new things. Now, that’s not me now, but some of the biggest takeaways from that stage are social isolation, perfectionism, and avoidance.

Same-sex parents are the pillars for a child’s gender role. They say that people with autism learn social skills by mirroring, but when you don’t have a mother, there’s really no feminine adult to reference. I find it fascinating how autistic individuals have the instinct to copy the speech, language, and expressions of the people around them. So anyways, I was never taught physical presentation like grooming, hygiene, and maturation. You can get the idea of what that would do to a middle schooler facing bullying. I think I have the weirdest style and hobbies ever.

I’m a big mess. I don't seem to attract women as friends, almost all of my friends are men. I have never attempted to flirt or get with any of them, single or not single. I can name about 2 female friends I have, and I really try to go out of my way to make female friends. I'm not masculine, I'm very feminine, so I don't think I have traits that group me in with men. It's like I have some insane internalized sexism that I don't want. Women feel that I'm not one of them. They realize immediately, or they realize shortly after we begin talking. I feel so ashamed bringing up my friends because they are men. Sometimes my online friends forget that I’m not a man.

Prosocial behavior is a terrible investment. Offering empathy or kindness only leaves you open to exploitation. But anyways, I’m too old for my silence to be seen as cute and quirky. I’m “rude,” “judgmental,” and “detached.” And it’s too late to change.