Cash register shift. Customers, small talk, scanner beeps.
 By the end: wheezing, itchy skin, zero words left. Came home and crashed on the floor before I even made it to bed.

I’ve forgotten what “clear head” feels like. My default setting is “internal pressure cooker.” #sinusitis

It’s strange how the same inertia that keeps me from beginning something can also glue me to it once I finally start. Stuck on pause, stuck on play—switching is the hardest part.

People see me sitting still and assume nothing is happening. Truth is, there’s a whole storm of intent behind my eyes. Autistic inertia means I can want something deeply, and still not move toward it for hours.

My lungs sometimes decide that oxygen is a luxury good. Breathing: DLC not included. #asthma

Cashier work taught me how to smile even when I’m tired. Student life taught me how to keep going even when I’m tired. Piano taught me how to focus even when I’m tired.

Autistic inertia is not laziness. It’s standing at the edge of a pool, knowing you can swim, even wanting to—but your body just won’t jump. The starting is the hard part, not the doing.

Autism + ADHD means I’m either hyperfocusing for 12 hours without eating or forgetting what I was doing mid-sentence. There is no middle ground.

Imagine trying to rest with depression, but ADHD says “let’s reorganize the fridge”, autism says “let’s do it exactly like last time”, and synaesthesia says “by the way the fridge smells like the color teal”.

Autistic inertia isn’t just about struggling to start things—it’s also about struggling to stop. I can sit frozen before a task for hours, but once I begin, I sometimes can’t pull myself away even when I should.

Imagine a patch of fire you can’t extinguish. Now imagine people saying “just don’t scratch.” #neurodermatitis

Funny how people assume any text with an em dash must be AI. But it’s the other way around—AI picked it up from us. I’ve loved that little line long before chatbots existed, and I won’t stop using it.

Ask people if they’d travel to the past, and they’ll say: careful, one tiny change could alter history.
 Ask them about the present, and suddenly nothing they do could possibly matter for the future. Funny logic.

When I say “I don’t have time,” it’s not that my calendar is full. It’s that my brain is already buffering at 2% capacity and any extra task would crash the system.

Exam in the evening. 
I spent the whole day pacing and stimming instead of reviewing, because anxiety has its own syllabus.

Living with chronic conditions is like having clingy roommates. In my case: asthma, sinusitis, and eczema. They don’t pay rent, they just make noise, block the air, and start fires on my skin.
 On good days, they’re quiet background processes. On bad days, they crash the whole system.

Current status: lungs hissing, sinuses clogged, skin burning. 10/10 sensory overload, do not recommend.

Chronic conditions don’t ask if it’s a good day. They just stack like bad game mechanics.

During a flare-up, I feel like an unreliable narrator of my own body.

My body staged a protest.
 Asthma flare, eczema itch, brain fog.
 Message received: you can’t run seven marathons in a row and expect no crash. 
I’m out of spoons. But at least I earned the exhaustion.

Sometimes I rehearse conversations so many times that I forget to actually say the things when I talk to people.

I once replaced a placeholder texture with a photo of a cat as a joke. Playtesters loved it so much I had to keep it in the game.

Studying is 20% reading, 80% trying to remember where you put your pen.

I’ve learned to play piano gently not for the music, but so my hands don’t rebel. #neurodermatitis

Tried to study in the library, but the smell of perfume + constant sniffles = sinus battle mode unlocked.
 I left with less knowledge and more tissues.

At my former supermarket, there was a regular who always brought me chocolate “for the stress“. I still think about them.

People like to say: “Just face your fears. Do it anyway. That’s how you overcome them.” Sometimes that’s true. But sometimes it’s exactly how you make the fear permanent.
 I grew up being told:
 If you’re bad at something → do it more.

Autism isn’t “liking trains”—it’s feeling like your brain is on 87 tabs at once and all of them have pop-ups.

Asthma + sinusitis + eczema = the holy trinity of “your body is mad at you for existing.”

ADHD makes me start five projects at once, autism makes me want them all perfect, depression makes me quit halfway, and synaesthesia gives each project a weird colour palette in my head.

People think allergies are seasonal. My sinuses laughed and signed up for the full-time job.

Bad day: asthma flare. Worse day: asthma flare + sinusitis headache + skin flare. Boss level unlocked.

Asthma attack logic: climb two stairs → body thinks I’ve run a marathon in the desert.

University is one of the hardest things for me.
 Too loud, too many people, too many impressions all at once. And always the pressure of exams, deadlines, expectations.
 Sometimes it throws me into depression. And then, depression takes away my ability to decide.

As a cashier I learned how many ways people can hand you coins. As a pianist I learned how many ways fingers can cramp. As a student I learned how many ways deadlines sneak up on you. As a gamedev I learned all of that … at the same time.

Autism: routines keep me sane.
 ADHD: routines are boring, break them.
 Depression: don’t bother starting.
 Synesthesia: the number 5 is purple and I don’t know why that matters but it does.

Neurodermatitis is like my skin throwing tantrums because life already wasn’t complicated enough.

Peak irony: playing piano with perfect finger control while sounding like a broken accordion just by existing. #asthma

With autism, the world is loud. With ADHD, my brain is louder. With depression, it’s heavy. With synaesthesia, it’s also … bright yellow and smells like oranges for some reason.

Autism: I need my calming fidget tool.
 ADHD: I forgot where I put it. 
Depression: I’m too tired to find it.
 Synesthesia: It smelled green the last time I heard it.

In game development, the bugs crash the program. As a cashier, the bugs were sometimes literal (summer + open doors = fun). As a pianist, the bugs are in my hands when they decide to forget the piece mid-performance. As a student … well, bugs were in the cafeteria salad.

People often assume high intelligence = knowing a lot.
 But really, it’s more like: high curiosity ➡️ WANTING to know a lot. 
It pushes you down endless rabbit holes: history, physics, languages, art, psychology, maths … everything is interesting.

I once avoided a song I loved for years because it was bright orange with a scratchy texture. My ears liked it, my brain didn’t. #synesthesiaproblems

Tried to rest. Brain: “Let’s replay every embarrassing thing we’ve ever said—on shuffle.” 
Me: “Cool. Thanks.”

Once spent 3 days fixing a bug that turned out to be a missing semicolon. I now respect punctuation more than most people.

At one concert, I completely blanked mid-piece. My hands just … improvised. Nobody noticed. I still don’t know what I played.

ADHD is … putting laundry in the washing machine and then, three days later, realizing you own a swamp now.

People: “You’re so quiet.”
 Also people: [interrupt me after two words]
 Yeah, wonder why I stopped talking.

“Do you get overwhelmed by noise?” 
Me: “No, I always wear noise-cancelling headphones.”
 … so, “yes”, actually.
 #NeurodivergentScreeningTests

I don’t avoid tough conversations. Even if I disagree, I still learn something: either a truth I didn’t want to see, or at least how I come across to others. Both are worth knowing.