Shutdown at the Party

I hear the thumping and pulsating music that pounds louder and louder than the human body should be allowed to handle.

I see a crowd of clueless party-goers who would rather stare and laugh than see if I’m doing ok.

I taste the bitter alcohol that made the jello taste less like blue raspberry and more like NyQuil.

I touch the doorknob as I dizzily try to hide a safe spot in the bathroom.

I smell a load of bullcrap, as an autistic person like me should be allowed to party just as hard as my neurotypical peers.