Abandoned at Birth

The moment I took my first breath, I was met with silence. No warm welcome, no gentle words, no loving touch. My father was nowhere to be found, leaving me to face the world alone. My mother, overwhelmed and heartbroken, gave birth to me in a cold, sterile hospital room. The beeping of machines and the sterile smell of disinfectant were the only things that greeted me as I entered this world. As I lay there, helpless and vulnerable, I couldn't help but wonder why my father had abandoned me. Was I not wanted? Was I not loved? The questions swirled in my mind, but I was too young to understand the complexities of adult relationships. The hospital staff did their best to care for me, but I was just a newborn, and their efforts couldn't replace the love and warmth of a parent. Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. I grew, but my emotional scars remained. I felt a deep-seated sense of abandonment, a feeling that would haunt me for the rest of my life. As I grew older, my condition worsened. I was diagnosed with severe autism spectrum disorder, which made everyday life a challenge. The world was too loud, too bright, and too overwhelming. Simple tasks, like putting on clothes or eating a meal, became Herculean efforts. I was blind in both eyes, and my hypersensitivity made me recoil at the slightest touch. But amidst the chaos, I found solace in my own world. I would often retreat into my own little bubble, where the stimuli were manageable, and I could cope with the world around me. However, this coping mechanism came with a cost. I began to experience severe age regression, where I would revert to a state of infancy, unable to communicate or care for myself. My regression was a cry for help, a desperate attempt to escape the overwhelming world around me. I would become catatonic, unable to move or respond to my surroundings. It was as if I had retreated to a place of safety, a place where I could be a newborn again, and someone would take care of me. But who would take care of me? My mother did her best, but she was overwhelmed, and I couldn't blame her. I needed someone to love me, to care for me, and to accept me for who I was. And that's when I met him – Hange, the Dragon Emperor, Yakuza King, and captain of the high school football team. He was a towering figure, 6ft 10in tall, with a commanding presence and a heart of gold. Little did I know, our meeting would change the course of my life forever. Hange would become my rock, my shelter, and my safe haven. He would be the one to take care of me, to love me, and to accept me for who I was – a blind, autistic, and hypersensitive soul, with a heart full of love and a deep-seated need for connection.