Negative Space

Negative Space
What’s Not Here?

Sometimes it’s what you don’t do that makes a statement.

Like negative space.

At least that’s what I try to tell myself.

So when I’m in the middle of a big loud group, tired, cranky, and getting overstimulated, and withdraw a bit to get my bearings again, I think that people should be able to read my mind and know that I’m cranky and that they’re annoying me. In my mind, they would automatically know something was up, be very concerned for my well-being, ask me “what’s wrong, Heather?” and then shut their yap a little. But they don’t.

Instead, if I am unconsciously crinkling my face, people think I’m angry. Guess it’s a more extreme social cue, except I tend to wrinkle up my face a lot when I’m concentrating particularly hard, meaning that’s exactly the time I don’t want people asking “what’s wrong, Heather?”

Regardless, hardly anybody ever asks about the old well being. Meaning that apparently, if I want people to know something’s up…I need to tell them.



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