Wired Different, Burning Bright 🦋🔥

Lyrics

Verse 1
Do I have autism? Am I autistic?
That question lives in my head, persistent, ballistic.
Day after day after day, it circles my mind,
while the whole damn world keeps yelling, “Just fall in line.”
But a crowded room steals the air from my chest,
drains my soul, leaves my bones feeling stressed.
It takes all of me just to smile and reply,
just to mask through the noise while I’m dying inside.
Conversation, people, life, all of it stings,
every voice too loud, every little sound rings.
Smell and touch and texture, sight and light,
my nervous system goes berserk by the middle of the night.
And they say, “Turn it off. Flip a switch. Calm down.”
Like I’ve got some secret button to make me less profound.
That’s not how it works, not the way I’m made,
I can fake it for a while, but the mask begins to fade.
Pre-Chorus
I cannot dial it down like a volume knob,
cannot pray it away, cannot give it to God.
I cannot shut it off just to make you feel fine,
I’m not broken because my wiring isn’t like yours or mine.
Chorus
I’m tired, I’m tired, I’m fucking tired,
of being told my fire should be softer, should be wired
to fit your version of “normal,” your narrow little box—
baby, normal always changes, so I’m breaking all the locks.
I am queer, I am disabled, I am proud, I stand tall,
and I won’t make myself smaller just to make you comfortable.
If you’ve got a problem with my truth, then walk away tonight,
‘cause I was never made to disappear—
I was made to burn bright.
Verse 2
People think I’m on my phone because I’m lazy or checked out,
but it’s an accessibility tool, that’s what they never think about.
For college work, for focus, for surviving every day,
for keeping all the chaos and the static pushed away.
Earbuds in because the noise gets muddy in my brain,
and mixing up my foods helps the textures feel less strange.
I eat different, think different, move different, too—
that does not make me less, it just makes me more true.
And tasks get hard in ways you’ll never understand,
like dishes in the sink and silverware still left by hand.
The big stuff gets done, but the tiny shit stays,
because tedious little details can devour whole days.
So I do the silverware first, then the plates, then the rest,
and suddenly it’s finished, and I’ve given it my best.
Life is confusing, chaotic, jagged, loud—
but I’m still here, still rising, still making myself proud.
Verse 3
Disabled people are capable, let me make that clear,
we just work two or three times harder to be seen while we’re here.
You call it easy breathing; we call it climbing uphill,
you call it basic living; we call it iron will.
To be treated as human, to not be stereotyped,
to not be mocked, erased, dismissed, or overtyped.
And being queer adds another target to your back,
“Blend in, fit in, be normal”—yeah, I’m done with all that crap.
Trans, gay, lesbian, bi, genderfluid too,
every shade of beautiful deserves the sky in view.
ADHD and OCD, autism and more,
BPD, bipolar, every mind you ignore.
Blind people exist, Deaf people exist,
hard of hearing people signing with a clenched-up fist.
Black, Asian, Hispanic, every culture, every creed—
we all deserve love, compassion, dignity, and peace.
Bridge
Plus-size people get bullied, thin people get torn down too,
I’ve lived that kind of cruelty and I know that pain is true.
So what the hell are we doing tearing each other apart,
when the world already sharpens enough knives for every heart?
Grow up. Open your mind. Learn something new.
Let empathy wreck the hate that’s been living in you.
Love is the truest form, the holiest art—
and if you cannot love people, then don’t come near my heart.
Final Chorus
I’m tired, I’m tired, I’m sick of the hate,
sick of being called weird just because I navigate
this world a little different, this world that never sees
how much strength it fucking takes just to breathe and be me.
So I’ll say it loud for the ones too worn to scream:
you are not a burden, you are not a broken dream.
You are worthy, you are holy, you are more than what they see—
and I’ll keep loving every soul that shows compassion back to me.
Outro
So start loving. Start learning. Start opening the door.
Maybe then your heart will hold more people than before.
This has been Willow, bold and bruised but still aware—
farewell until tomorrow.
I love you, my beautiful Willows, my seedlings everywhere.