As I got older, things became more complicated.
Visible changes were onces I could ignore, as I always did. But everyone acted differently.
Almost overnight, it seemed like everyone around me made up new rules that no one was too keen to share. At least, not with me.
I couldn't stand jeans, preffering loose yoga pants that had no real texture or constriction. I wore oversized jacket and sweatshirts in 90 degree heat so I wouldn't fear any skin on skin contact.
Girls needed style now, a sense of fashion. New clothes, make-up, the works.
Laughing at jokes I didn't even know were made.
Getting
Sad?
Angry?
When I couldn't read their minds.
My other problems persisted.
I learned to work through my migraines. A regimen of OTC pain killers took the edge off. Ibuprofen, 2 hours, Acetometaphen, 2 hours. Repeat.
What saved me wasn't my books, to which I once again retreated in my time of need.
I took a theatre class.
I learned to observe and mimic others, to mirror them in improv games, how to realistically fake eye contact, and so much more in a short, very hellish, time.
(Not by choice.)
These skills saved me from drowning. They also destroyed any chance of getting the help I really needed for years to come.