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The Wrong Girl

I first heard the word in my 1st grade class. There was a boy named Edgar. He had a bowl cut and often wore purple turtlenecks, and whenever another student asked what was wrong with him, the teacher would respond with, “Edgar is autistic.” None of us knew what that meant of course, but that’s what they told us.

I heard it again when I was about 12. I was at the public pool and I was sitting on the rim talking to an older woman who was there with her son who was maybe 4 or 5. She was telling me about how he loved this show on PBS because of the characters and the bright colors, and that’s when she said it, “See, he’s autistic”. Again with that word. Still no context for what it meant even then, but I knew it meant ‘different’.

I heard it again in 8th grade when, despite my glaring social and academic problems, I was still in regular classes and sometimes we’d see these kids from the “Special Education” classroom walk by. Often the other kids would snicker, point at them, call them “retarded”. The teacher would respond, “They’re autistic, be nice.” Now I was learning it was bad to be this thing.

I would hear this word crop up time and time again, but while I knew that my teachers were having meetings with my mom and stepdad, I never knew that they were using that word in reference to me. I am a girl. We present differently. Sure, I hid under desks in classrooms and I cried and hit myself and I memorized entire books and movies and I had no interest in forming “friendships”, but I didn’t know that was what that word meant, nor that they were trying to pin it on me. My mother wouldn’t have it. She swore up and down she knew what “mentally challenged” kids were like, and that I was NOT one of them.

Only in the last 3 years have I come to start to accept it as what I am. Doctors told her, teachers told her, other parents told her, and yet no, I had to be “normal”. So they kept me out of classes that could’ve helped me, they didn’t understand why having tags in my shirts was a terrible thing and why I couldn’t go to places with large crowds, often forcing me into uncomfortable situations and thus making me cry and scream, and then yelling at me for crying and screaming. I did not have a good childhood. I didn’t even have a decent childhood. I had a childhood of being told I was different by everyone except my parents, who told me I was “normal”, so I had no idea what I was. All I knew was that nobody wanted to be my friend, and that was fine by me. I had books. I had stuffed animals. I had myself.

But myself is no longer a viable, nor enjoyable, companion to keep. Now I want to run away from myself every day. I want to unzip my skin like a costume and slip outside of my physical prison and run as far far away as possible. My problems have become easier to deal with now that I understand what those problems ARE. And yet…and yet everything is still too much. Too all the time. I scream internally now because the world doesn’t let you scream out loud. I still hit myself. I am wasted opportunity. I am an example of what you shouldn’t do. I cannot do a single thing on my own and fail day to day life 24/7. I am 100% co-dependent and cannot cook for myself and cannot drive and cannot live on my own.

I became the ugly word they believed it was, because that’s what they made me believe I was, and I hate them every fucking day for it.

I was a little girl. I needed HELP. I needed LOVE. I needed to be told “You are this and this is okay to be”. I still don’t know who I am, except that I am a broken person. That’s all I’ve ever known about myself, is that I’m “wrong”. That’s my identity. Wrong. That’s what I am. Wrong. Wrong.

Wrong.

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I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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Close To Monsters #28

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Created, Written & Drawn by Maggie Taylor

This weeks comic is brought to you by the fact that everything you deem crucial really means nothing at all. Wanna write your own caption for this comic strip? Then head on over to my Patreon, where for a mere 25 dollars a month, you not only get all the previous rewards, but also get the write a caption for one of these, and get credited for it!

Buy My Book!  Support Me Via Patreon!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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Birds My Father Hated: Episode 10 “Conservation”

In the 1st season finale, Mavis finally discusses her father in depth, leading to a rather revealing confession.

Buy My Book!  Support Me Via Patreon!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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The 61st Minute: Change

It’s been a while since the original first video, but here’s a new video (along with a series name change)! If you like this work and want to see more, original content then go throw some cash at me over at my Patreon so I can buy a nice camera and some arts and crafts supplies for more videos!

Buy My Book!  Support Me Via Patreon!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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All My Friends Are Broken People

I didn’t mean for this to happen, but it occurred to me the other day that every single person I’m friends with is broken in some way or another.

I am friends with people who had abusive parents, who were in abusive relationships, who have severe depression, anxiety, trauma, PSTD, you name it. Now, obviously, with this generation, this isn’t so surprising. We’re all pretty fucked up, and unlike previous generations, we’re actually admitting it, and, again unlike previous generations, a lot of us are actually actively working on getting better. But this is different. I seek out broken people. I find the most broken people that I can and I take them under my wing, and I make sure they know they have someone who cares about them and is always available to talk if they need someone.

The way I see it, these are the people who are most likely to understand or appreciate me. But I often forget you cannot understand or appreciate someone for their problems unless you yourself face those same problems. They can have a vague, general understanding, but unless they were in my head, dealing with my psychological time displacement and horrible thoughts of self pain and hatred, they won’t ever really get me. But, while we may not be able to truly understand one another, we at least attempt. We embrace. We do not turn away. I am looking to help people not feel so alone, because I’ve been so alone, and it is awful.

But this goes beyond all that. I’ve covered that before. I’ve talked at length about how I seek out people to befriend so they don’t have to feel as lonely as I’ve felt. That’s boring, familiar territory, and I don’t want to tread it yet again. That’s why I say this goes beyond all that, because to me, broken people, really broken people, are the most normal of us all. We recognize our weaknesses instead of denying them, even if said weaknesses are what’s keeping us broken, and we are ecstatic when good things come our way because they so rarely do. We are the most in tune with ourselves, our emotions, and everything. We are the most human of the humans that I have ever known.

I am not saying this to say one type of person is better than another. Please don’t try and think that’s what I’m getting at here, because it’s not. All I’m saying is that it is nice to have people like myself. Broken people. Because we admit we’re broken, and too many don’t, and if only more would, they may be able to change what they don’t like and really focus on getting to be the best them they could be. They’re so scared of admitting defeat or showing signs of weakness, that they hide behind this ever present perpetual myth of “everything is fine” with a laugh and a smile and selfie, and yet if they could just be broken, admit they’re broken, in some way or some form for a little bit of time, they may just like who they could really be.

Maybe I’m wrong. It’s possible. I can be wrong about all kinds of stuff. But what I’m saying is there’s no shame in your brokenness, in your weakness, in your sadness. There is no shame in you.

You are broken.

You are beautiful.

Buy My Book!  Support Me Via Patreon!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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Close To Monsters #26

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Created, Written & Drawn by Maggie Taylor

This weeks “Close To Monsters” is brought to you by the fact that your parents are quick to only ever point out your cons and never your pros.

Buy My Book!  Support Me Via Patreon!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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Birds My Father Hated: Episode 8 “Penguins”

In this weeks episode, Mavis tells the story of the first time she went to the Zoo, and how jealous she was of a Penguin. If you like this show, want to help me create more or see other content I produce, drop by my Patreon where, for as low as a buck a month, you can have next weeks episode TODAY!

Buy My Book!  Support Me Via Patreon!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!