Joshua Jon Williams

Posts tagged “writing

Salvaged [P.1]

In my situation as an autistic adult, it could be seen that when people interact with me, that I may flinch or swerve away to avoid this interaction; this in time has become something that I am more aware of consciously. To this day, I do not completely understand but I can try to comprehend. As I grow older I am aware that my consciousness as a human being grows, to an extent where the world around me acts only as if a dream, I pass through its reality and it passes right through me.

I grew up as a ‘normal child’ at the time, prior to my diagnosis as autistic, where I lived with my parents all the way until sixteen. I did what most children my age do, I went to school and I went to my lessons, came home, played games, socialised sometimes and went to sleep. It was not until 2004 when my diagnosis came to light – until then, my parents had seen my behaviour as naughty or unruly. I once stated bluntly to a Maths teacher, who I had the utmost respect for, that I would not sit next to one of her pupil’s because I knew I wouldn’t be able to work if I did – her reaction was unfortunately negative, sending me to detention for simply denying what I saw as a logical request.

In the same countless years, I have experienced bullying like any child shouldn’t have to and I don’t mean that in a ‘special’ way but in saying that no child should ever be a victim to bullying. I have experienced this throughout my entire time in school, from a very early young age to later a teen when you’d think by then that maybe they would have grown up and stopped. I still think back now, at the age of 23 and 4 months, that all this could have been avoided somehow and that I would not be sat here writing this to you today. I do not regret that I am writing this as I am hoping someone reads this and understands that bullying isn’t cool nor is corporal punishment – start the road to a better future by seeing how your actions affect others and how your successors (if so) affect others even in their early years of development.

I write now at said age, having experienced a better life since my diagnosis and after leaving sixth form, where I held quite a fair bit of negative memories that lingered until halfway through my University degree. By that point, I had been on anti-depressants for almost a year or so, having needed them to recover from the ills of a bad period of time that I will not go into until a later date after this has been posted. I am still on those anti-depressants (sertraline if you’re curious to know) and between then, my life has significantly changed, if mostly for the better.

As I discussed previously, I am becoming more aware of my existence within the world and my place, to a point that I acknowledge that such memories as these, no matter how painful they are, trigger on a lapse of thought that can only be described as watching a video tape on repeat, with the included static from aging decay and distortion due to memory issues where there’s just a mess of tapes, their entrails hanging out and interweaving. I commonly state most things are connected, if not everything is, as small as these connections may be – they are still significant in the deciphering of memories and in the process of aiding the recovery from these.

For now, I’m signing off this draft, I wrote this because it has beared a heavy weight on my chest and I know that by telling someone (you, yes you) that I can now work on freeing myself from the shackle of my past memories and with hope to build a more stable, happy and safe future for myself.




Manifestation of Anxieties (of an Autistic Adult)

In my second year of University study, I took my practice back onto a personal level – this year, I was to focus on my autism and how it affected me as an artist with autism and as an individual living with autism. I had not at this point realised that in my foundation year prior to University, I had tapped into this when working around relationships. I had repeated this same situation in my final year, having turned my focus onto music – strangely enough, into just a short half year after graduating, I had come to realise how closely linked my creative flow was with my autism – I had made music that was seen in my mind through its own systems, rather than conventional systems that I was already aware of.

I still to this point, write closely or on the subject, so what is to follow, is my most recent collection of writings, that follow the past few days, where I had been feeling anxious. I have only just come to terms with what we call, loss and it comes in many forms this time around. But without further ado, the following as promised. 

Process and Value

You cannot seem to process man’s values as emotion or feeling – it is often linked to your sensory or nervous system of which responds as appropriate but in a sudden instance, it feels like all the wiring that connects you to your own unique feelings and emotions has become short-circuited and that as a human, you no longer feel. You no longer see your own feelings but those of others, lost in the fabric of the web that now shrouds even your own spectrum of feeling, let alone your emotions, in dust. These are left to molder over time into a manifestation most foul and into a beast you cannot control. You fear yourself becoming the beast with no choice but to either break away from living or risk your becoming of the beast.

Subdued and Numb

In the time it has taken to free yourself of the shackles of subdued living, you have been at the utmost presently delaying yourself from the wicked temperament of the storm that coincides. You are now drowned under, unable to swim in the sea, a puddle of your own tears as you fall victim to the fears you denied that resided within you, once dormant now restless as each and every fiber painstakingly aches. You seem only now to wonder as you drag yourself along the cold winding road, as all feeling escapes you and you grow numb to the touch. Your smile now insists that it avoids you as a shadowless figure, in the void now as it beckons you onto insanity as you lead yourself down this winding path onwards to nowhere and beyond your grasp.

How Do You Feel?

It is not a question of how I feel – rather it is a question of what I feel when I have truly lost sight of my own emotions. What I feel is important to me, is what I feel, knowing this is what I want and need, but yet I ask again, what do I feel. What I know is I need time, I want love, I need friends, I want a home, I need love, but I am mistaken for being too cold for anyone, even when the ice thaws, that it freezes over again but I am not a man with a heart of ice nor one to wield a dagger to those as fragile as glass.

[LiFE] Research Proposal

Information today comes in many forms, leads onto many other forms, that lead onto their own reformations that inevitably lead onto consciousness and enlightenment past the box to which we look from but never look out of.

When we consider the autistic mind in context, we realise that our due considerations occur before their timely occurrence within space and so the world acts almost as if a dream.

For example, consider the way in which data is arranged, the autistic mind will attempt to sort data as objects in a similar fashion that then allows for ease of processing.

However because of this, we may arrange those accordingly to other accounts, such as what we know and how we know. Again, data is sorted but in this instance, we either have too much or too little of information.

This in turn can fuel conflict such as formation of anxiety, creating data which we consider to absent or seek to streamline but see both as failure.

An example of where information or data is arranged in such formation, is the way in which structure can be broken down to break down links between information and this further to dissolve all existent links between predecessors and their inevitable successors.


the person you’ve dreamt
you could be is in front of you
but I will make you blind and you’ll see
that you’ll never ever be what you could be

now the person you’ve dreamt
but that you never could be,
now stares blankly at you,
from behind the mirror,
deep within your eyes.

Now that person you’re dreaming
you could be is now in sight
but if you need to fight
because in the dark,
there will be light.

Never Felt So Alone

In my own mind, I wander the pathways in search of light to guide me away from the darkness and to take me back home, where I may slumber eternally without having to wake from the dream that I surrender to. May this sleep be endless so that the torment brought on by mankind may end, so soon as my eyes shut, will the world truly understand what it’s like. In all honesty, I’ve never felt so alone.

These words are not exact, but I devised a composition similar in nature to this, as an accompaniment to an ongoing project that will last the breadth of my lifetime and hopefully onto the next. I hope you take the time to listen to what I’m about to show you.

– J


This world is theirs to create – to destroy under their willpower and recreate within their own image – almost as if godlike powers are within the grasp of mortals, yet no matter how far we’ve come, we are still holding on and this prevents the universal for terminating its connection with the fabricated world of man.

To achieve enlightenment, is to seek that outside of our mortal grasp, in a plane where we are neither the present living, the future born or the past dead as time will not exist, nor shall memory, that holds onto our fabrication and manufacturing of feeling that keeps us close enough to human as such things like compassion can.

Within mortality, we should not fear death, for in the wandering, we are at present, the living dead and versa, the alive dying whom wander through and seek purpose greater than that of mortal capability.

As we live, we die and we die as we live.

We All Fall Down

In the spiral of the last few months, the pathway to sanctuary has become twisted in the haze of a dizzy blur, that encircled me, trapped in a constant fight with myself over what direction my life should take at this point. I’ve been sickened by the onslaught of unsurity and the collapsing of walls that once surrounded me.

This being said, my focus returns to bettering one’s mental health, for the sake of resuming my artistic practice that relies solely on the dips in my health and the obscure methodology of writing poems in order to further research and aid my condition – whilst swimming in a sea, that seems always to drift me out to shore endlessly until I hear the sirens call my name and wake me from this dream.

In light of recent events, I come to realise how my practice as a creative (because of a broad spectrum) initiates a form of research, practised outside standard closed and traditional methodologies. This being said, the poems I produce, come under scrutiny by my own methods of editing, before becoming my music, that furthers the refinement and release from memory. This is drawn further, where in the moment, at the time and when the memory is placed, the performance remains anew each rendition, never the same exact words or order.

Some would speculate that this is an odd or unusual practice to follow, but I feel my research benefits greatly with it and so does my interests. I have a good feeling about what the future has in store.