I used to hate when people sat next to me...

I used to really hate when people invaded my space. Not just dislike. I’d feel it in my bones, like a jolt. If I went to the library, I was there to study, not to chat or make friends or be anyone’s “study buddy.” Once, a girl asked me to save her a seat. I thought, Okay, whatever, that’s fine.

But every time I got up to refill my water, to stretch, to use the bathroom — she’d ask,

It made my skin crawl. I’d replay it in my head for hours. Why did she care? Why did she want to come with me? I just wanted to be left alone.

That’s the thing about being autistic: space isn’t just a preference, it’s survival. Noise, movement, even someone’s presence it can feel like too much, all at once. I used to think people were just being intrusive, or that they didn’t respect me. But over time, I realized most people aren’t trying to overwhelm me. They’re just reaching out, in their own way. Their social rules are different from mine.

So I started experimenting. If someone sat next to me, I’d stay put, even if it felt uncomfortable. If someone wanted to talk, I’d listen for a bit, then say, “I need to focus now.” Not rude, just honest. Boundaries, not walls.

It’s still hard. Some days, I want to disappear into my own world. But I’ve met a few people who get it who can sit beside me in silence, no pressure, no expectations. That kind of quiet company feels like a small miracle.

Letting people in doesn’t mean losing myself. It just means learning new ways to exist with others, even when solitude feels safer. And sometimes, that’s enough.