I'm so happy to have finally achieved this! I have autism, aphantasia, and visual dyslexia. I always had a difficulty with languages and reading. I’ve searched for decades for a way to express myself.
Since I can’t see images in my mind, I write through feeling and touch. I've shared excerpts from my first story. It took a lot of trial and error. I hope to inspire others that writing can be more than visual.
"I didn't realise how much I hated being here—until you grabbed me closer. The clink of the glass, the indifference of the people, my friends, and the rapid breath that didn't belong to you or me kept burning in my ears.
I clutched your clothes harder, leaned closer. The shivers in my body conveyed everything. I wanted to be your compass, dragging you into the dark, but you were the one leading me away from the suffocating fluorescent lights.
The river looked different today. I knew your heart raced faster than mine. I couldn't tell you. I couldn't tell you I wish you were the one to close the gap. I felt as still as the water body, radiating under the moon, only to be smoldered by the artificial lights.
My hand reached to your chest—a small 'hush' to tell you it’s okay to calm down. I'm safe now, feel it. My eyes darted to the familiar rhythm of your movements. Your fist finally unfurled. Your shoulders dropped. And finally, my head rested on your chest—to sync our hearts.
I wish it rained tonight, I wish I had an excuse to mask my tears. But more than that, I wish it would snow. You always told me I looked beautiful under the moonlight, but I could never tell you how protective you felt under snowfall.
The walk to my apartment was a dance of city lights, glittering like fallen stars against the rhythmic beat of our footsteps—the distraction you gifted me to hush the fluttering hummingbird in my chest. The only thing that felt real was the solid, unwavering weight of your hand in mine.
You never let go. Not when we crossed the street. Not when I fumbled for my keys at the front door. Not even when we finally stepped inside and the world outside clicked shut behind us. The deadbolt felt cold against my skin, making me ache for your warmth, but when your hand finally slipped away, the lingering sensation made me twitch.
You scooped me by the hips, lifting me up until you set me onto the couch. The springs gave up under my weight. It didn't bounce. It didn't settle. It kept dipping—the softness felt like a trap. You stood over me—imposing in a way only my pendant lights could spill.
My entire body jolted again when your hands found my shoulders. You let go, only to brush a stray strand of hair from my eye, forcing me to finally stare into your gaze—even without the courage I managed to gather.
The distraction of my reflection vanished. Only your desire remained. Your hands slowly slid down, anchoring me. I was still staring. Your hands found my waist, I was still searching.
I still couldn't look away when you pulled me off the couch. Staring as I fell against you. Staring even as my hair draped over us like a curtain, locking the world away in our little cocoon, the unveiling of my feelings.
I didn't want to stop."