I’m Valid, But at What Cost?

In the 5th century BCE, a man named Hervion Flaudermaus of Alexandria III journeyed south by foot from his native city Alexandria to what is now called Lake Victoria, the starting source of the world’s largest river. If you have not heard of this feat before, it is because, unlike me, this story is not valid. That’s right. I lied for attention even though I don’t need it. Next paragraph.

I discovered — I cannot say when — that I am completely valid. I accept this fact, and I practice self-love, self-care, and self-stimulation. This is not to say that I am looking to invalidate anyone who does not feel valid. You probably are. But you may discover, that like me, your validity will get out of hand. 

I can blend seamlessly into any crowd, yet instantly become the star of the show because of my validity. I never get sick. Physically or mentally. That’s right. I wouldn’t necessarily call myself neurotypical so much as having transcended the essence of neurotypicality into something extremely similar yet foreign to everyone, including myself. My study patterns are healthy and white yoga instructors are jealous and erotically afraid of me. Yet I party on the weekends, possibly having a good time. Do I, though? I can’t tell. By the way, I’m not colorblind, but I actually have lost the ability to see color. Some would call this being an Ally. I prefer to think of it as connecting orgiastically to the entire world.

My head feels numb. Everyone loves me, including myself. Nothing at all is wrong, but I can’t help but feel that something is deeply, biblically off. I won’t say anything’s wrong, because it’s not. But my validity is coming at a price which transcends capitalism and Marxism. I am Become Valid, Destroyer Of.