The Story Behind the Poem: “Here, in My Words”

I have been mistaken for cold,

A stone lacking emotion,

A little too controlled,

But my depth is an ocean you could drown in.

Read me and tell me if ice fills my soul.

For here, in my words,

Ink poured over pages,

My flesh is exposed,

Naked and vulnerable.

Here, in my words,

Outside of armored cages,

Bare skin uncovered,

Soft and penetrable.

It is here, in printed script,

I let myself be free,

Untethered, uninhibited,

Unashamed, undone,

Perhaps a bit unhinged to some.

Here, in my words,

I let myself be me.

I’ve always been someone who’s been told I’m “hard to read.” People see my stillness, my quiet, my neutral expression, and they assume it means I’m cold, distant, or uninterested. But the truth is, I just experience the world a little differently.

As a woman with autism, I’ve learned to navigate a world that often expects emotions to be loud and visible in order to be believed. But that’s not always how it works for me. My face may not always mirror what I feel, but inside, I feel everything. Deeply. Constantly. Intensely.

“Here, in My Words” is a response to that misunderstanding. A reclaiming. A way of saying: if you want to know who I really am, don’t just look at me. Read me.

Writing is the space where my inner world is given form. It’s where I lower the mask and let my truth spill out… raw, vulnerable, unedited. On the page, I’m not guarding myself. I’m not translating or performing. I’m just... me.

This poem is a reminder to myself (and maybe to you too) that our truest selves often live just beneath the surface, waiting for a safe place to be seen.

So here I am.

Here, in my words.

Want to create a space like this for your own writing?

My Writer’s Retreat Kit was made for moments just like this, when you need a gentle container to explore your truth, your voice, and your story.

Yours in ink,

Sharla