“I Wasn’t Being Literal

AWRYTE | Weekly Post | ~1,080 words It’s funny how people hear me say something direct, then look at me like I must not get the deeper meaning. Like I’m too literal. Too black-and-white. Too stuck in surface-level thinking. I get it. I’m autistic. I’ve heard it before. But here’s the thing: I wasn’t being literal. I was being clear.

There’s a difference. I say what I mean because it saves us both time. I use the words that fit the shape of my thought. I don’t do vague compliments or social lies to smooth things over. Not because I can’t. Because I don’t want to. That’s not the same as missing nuance.

People love to pretend autistic people can’t understand tone. That we miss metaphors. That we live in some rigid world where sarcasm floats over our heads. Sometimes, yeah, that’s true. If your tone doesn’t match your words, it can trip my brain up. If you speak in sarcasm only, I might not clock it right away. But that doesn’t mean I’m dense. It means I’m parsing. It means I’m listening to what you’re saying and how you’re saying it— and when the two don’t match, I pause. You read it as confusion. I experience it as a red flag.

Literal doesn’t mean shallow. Literal means precise. I ask you what time we’re leaving because I want to be ready. I ask what you meant by that joke because it didn’t land. I’m not missing the big picture. I’m trying to avoid the fallout of guessing wrong.

I’ve spent a lot of time trying to decode things people didn’t say. The raised eyebrow. The smile that felt forced. The sudden silence that sucked all the air out of the room. I don’t read between the lines by instinct. So I look for patterns. I match tone to body language. I remember that one time you said “I’m fine” and definitely weren’t. Then, when I ask for clarity, I’m told I’m too literal. But how else am I supposed to survive in a world that lies politely?

People don’t like when you take them at their word. If you say, “I don’t care where we eat,” and I pick a place, and then you complain— you weren’t being vague. You were being dishonest. And now I’m “too rigid” for not reading the subtext. No. You said what you said. I followed your lead. The gap isn’t in my comprehension. It’s in your communication.

It’s exhausting to live in a world where the spoken word isn’t the real word. Where you have to know the social code, read the tone, translate the smile, then guess if what was said actually matches what was meant. So I use clear language. And when people don’t like it, I get labeled cold, clinical, robotic. But I’m none of those things. I’m careful.

I’ve had whole relationships blow up over mismatched communication styles. I asked someone, “Are you mad at me?” because I felt the shift in energy. They said no. I believed them. But they were. And instead of telling me, they waited for me to figure it out—then blamed me when I didn’t. I wasn’t being literal. I was being loyal to the truth I was given. And still, I lost.

My daughter once asked me, “Why do people say things they don’t mean?” She’s neurodivergent too. We both notice how much double-speak adults use to keep things smooth. “I’m just tired” means “I’m upset but don’t want to explain.” “It’s fine” means “It’s not, and I want you to fix it without me telling you how.” So she asks me: “Why can’t they just say what they mean?” And I don’t have a good answer. Because I’ve asked that too.

Being autistic doesn’t mean I can’t imagine your meaning. It means I want confirmation before I react. It means I need language to be what it says it is. It means I’ll replay a conversation for hours if I think I missed something. And that kills me when I realize the reason I missed it was because someone didn’t say what they meant in the first place.

If you’re neurotypical, and you’re reading this— maybe start trusting that I do understand. Maybe stop correcting me like I’m a robot who doesn’t get context. Maybe realize that “literal” is your word, not mine. I live in a world that says one thing and means another. That lies for comfort. That rewards people for being pleasant over being honest. And I don’t want to do that.

So yeah, I might sound blunt. I might give a direct answer. I might not coat my words in sugar before I hand them to you. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel deeply. It means I respect you enough to be clear. It means I’m giving you what I wish more people gave me— words that don’t need translation.

At AWRYTE, we don’t flatten ourselves to be polite. We communicate in the way that feels safe, not performative. We stop pretending that indirectness is more evolved. We name things. We clarify. We give our brains what they need to process reality. Because sometimes, the kindest thing you can do is be exact.