Selective Mutism: This Is My Story ✓

returning and update (2017)

hello, readers,

this may not seem like a lot of time difference to you because you may have just finished this yesterday (like someone did, which is why i'm writing this now (they reminded me)).

but, it's been about three years since i wrote this - story? (it's the 11th of march)

i was thirteen, and of present, i'm sixteen. weird, huh? most of all, i'm cringing at all the grammar mistakes i made?

but, importantly, i survived three years and i'm still going strong with sm.

idk, we're not as enemy-like now. we've become equals. they keep my mouth shut sometimes in the worst times, sometimes in convenience, but sometimes i knock them out clean and my voice comes out clear and loud.

but only sometimes.

it'll never be perfect, yunno.

but i've made some friends since then.

loud and extroverted friends with mental issues of their own, but they love me (i think) and i love them.

i used to think that i'd never find anyone romantically interested in me, but there's been three, and i wish i could've told my thirteen year old self that (she'd never even spoken to a  boy (still didn't go farther than talking, though, but still)).

her hair is longer, jaw sharper, chest bigger, taller, wiser, smarter,,,,
l o u d e r.

and her hair is finally longer (at thirteen she was growing her full fringe out)

she's found music she loves, clothes, passions, a book she's going to write (keep a look out, y'all)

she's found out that she's not straight ... woah (even if she didn't want to accept it, she knew that boys and girls are both beautiful, even back then))

her grades aren't A* worthy, and her gcses are coming up too soon, it's scary, but so much has happened and she's pulled through it all with that smile of hers she didn't use enough back then (she's growing dimples now)

her family has split, it's her and her mum at home now, just two from what used to be five, but that's okay, she's pulling through.

and yesterday, it was a year until her and her best friend (still the same one) are going to see the cursed child.

last year and the year before, fifteen years old, she was the happiest she'd ever been because every time a quiet boy with black eyes and black hair and a bone structure sharp enough to cut ice looked at her, her stomach disappeared.

and she learnt a lesson, after sending a timid message through to that boy, that even if someone doesn't like you back, it doesn't change how you felt on your part.

she pulled through the heart breaks and aches, and although it felt like everyone was miles ahead (and still sometimes does), she's catching up with her (longer) hair blowing in the wind as she runs along behind, stopping every now and then for a slice of pizza.

she smiles more, and reads less, but still gets that good feeling when she does manage to fit in a page or two, and she does feel like jumping off of something tall sometimes ... but it's so much different.

when someone asks why she doesn't talk (because they still do), she simply smiles and shrugs and replies "i don't know, it's just who i am", or her fiery friends will step forward and defend her honour for her ... because sometimes they need to ... and that's okay

she still doesn't know quite how to accept compliments or flirt, when told she's good looking by a boy she's not too keen on, a simple thanks should suffice, but she feels like she needs more ... and she wishes it were someone else saying that.

she's learnt to appreciate others' and their mannerisms and a boy in her english and the way he looks at her ... even if it means nothing and is purely coincidental.

the boy she fell (lowkey) in love with at fifteen doesn't affect her anymore, much, and it's decreasing by the day, like a slow stream of water. she just likes his smile, still. but eye contact doesn't get to her like it used to. progress.

most importantly though, she talks, minus the bad days (but they're okay to have too), and people listen, and they don't always reply, and she's not always loud enough.

she appreciates nature more: aesthetics reaching a peak: boys in blazers, girls with freckles, sunsets and salty sea air, rain on window panes, lie-ins with light shining through her blue curtains and making her bedroom under the sea, laughing until her stomach hurts (because that happens, now), dark lipsticks (they look amazing on her), old buildings, music that gives her goosebumps.

she still regrets, still balancing on the question of whether she regrets taking that step of falling for the boy with a soft laugh, but also questioning whether it would've happened anyway. mistakes are still made, but she's noticed that everyone makes them. everyone is fighting a battle, whatever it may be.

and that's okay.

to put it into perspective, she's only a tiny speck in the universe (she learnt that in physics the other day), but she's her own whole universe ... and is made of literal star dust.

but she made it, whatever "it" is, and she'll carry on.

so will you ...
this is proof.