in which the author is a confused slug and eschews capitalization for the sake of tone

bewildered, it rereads the suggestion that someone is fond of it. this is not correct, it thinks in its dim slug brain, i have somehow imagined this into reality. it can’t even be happy about this because it is not a real slug. sorry i tricked you the slug was imaginary this whole time. imaginary slug is too confused to be happy.

it considers checking every five minutes for eternity to see if the fondness has abated. then it will be safe again. less confused.

that’s not quite it. i am happy that i have somehow made another person happy but they do need to understand i am not real. (worried & afraid face) (whispers) someone loves me

there is also something wrong with me. maybe many things. i do not know what they are but i am not normal. fig 1: persistent certainty that it does not really exist like other people do. fig 2: identifies with slugs more than humans. fig 3: has thoughts that are not Intrusive Thoughts but nevertheless seem intrusive and bad. brain misreads thoughts as intrusive? neurotypical is a sliding scale and it has no clue where the extremes actually are. fig 4: unwilling to be thought or talked about by humans. fig 5: unable to have a gender because it does not identify with any group of humans enough (looks wistfully at people with genders. feels sick.)

tl? dr? i will summarize: if you love me please don’t tell me about it because it will cause me to have a crisis of identity. caveat: i will attempt to ferret all information relevant to having feelings about anything out of you because i Want To Know because collecting information makes me more of an archive than a slug