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Summer diary of an autistic teenager

Thursday 23rd June 2022

Right, this isn’t part of the sequel, but I got nothing going on, so I’m just gonna write this. Sort of a summer diary, I guess. I might include it in the sequel if I run out of ideas and all that, just to make it a bit longer. I'll be doing these everyday I think, so stay tuned in I guess.

Physics: my last exam. I’m fuckin knackered. I’m only gonna be in school for about 2 hours, then I’m going home, so it can’t be that bad. I stood around outside the exam place to be signed in on the register and they sent me off to my separate room that I go to. I’m just gonna skip this bit actually, because it’s a bit boring…

Right, that went shit. I felt sick; I’m not good with nerves. Fucking hate physics. At least it’s over I guess. No more GCSEs though, so that’s alright. That was my last one. Everyone else went off to celebrate with each other, but I felt like going home and having a packet of crisps instead, so I went home.

Pretty much spent the rest of the day pissing about and eating crisps. I went through one of those big bags. I might end up like an American by the time summer is over. To be fair though, I only ate all those crisps because we had a Tesco delivery yesterday, so I just had them available to me. We don’t usually have all that stuff knocking about in our cupboards because we scoff it all the day that we get it, so I should be alright.

Had a drum lesson in the evening, so I guess that gave me something to do. My drum teacher told me he saw me on the news. I was on the news by the way, chatting about my diary and all that. My parents told the news I wrote Diary of an Autistic Teenager as a coping mechanism for autism. Don’t tell the news people I said this, but that’s actually a load of bollocks; I wrote it because I was bored, but hey, publicity is publicity. It was the BBC who interviewed me. Pretty big, I know. They advertised it as being a book of coping mechanisms rather than a book I wrote as a coping mechanism. People must have a bit of a shock when they buy the book then. They buy it thinking it’s some sort of handbook of coping strategies and all that, but they open it to the front page and the first paragraph is me talking about my dog having an erection. They’d be going “What is this shit?! Have I bought the wrong book or something?” Whatever, not my problem really.

There was a fat spider in my room, so I slept on the sofa downstairs instead. My mum says that it’s more scared of me than I am of it. That’s what everyone always says, but the spider wasn’t the one who slept on the sofa last night, so they can shove that saying up their arse.

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