Good Different

“Sometimes when one of them calls me 

and won’t stop talking, 

I turn my video off, 

put my phone down, 

and come back 

and they’re still talking 

like they didn’t even notice 

I was gone.”

The enjambed lines reflect Selah’s emotional distancing, creating a rhythmic sense of disengagement that parallels her literal withdrawal during her peers’ conversations. This moment demonstrates her social isolation and the imbalance in her friendships, for although she is physically present, she is not emotionally recognized. The scene also foreshadows the lessons she will learn about Repairing Relationships After Harm, as Selah’s friendships are often fractured by mutual misunderstandings and uneven communication patterns.

“I don’t think about him much. Why would I? 

You can’t miss someone you never knew. 

At least that’s what I tell myself.”

This passage uses internal contradiction to reveal Selah’s underlying grief about her absent father. The shift from declarative certainty to a self-directed admission (“that’s what I tell myself”) suggests that she is actively suppressing her emotions on the topic and using fragile logic to cope with her sense of abandonment. Her father becomes an unspoken point of emotional tension, contributing to the novel’s broader exploration of identity formation and belonging.

“It’s like the neighbors 

are partying inside my head, 

like they’ve picked the lock 

to my body 

and are walking inside me 

with their muddy shoes.”

In this example, sensory imagery translates Selah’s overwhelm into a physical invasion, articulating the idea that external noise is an intensely unbalancing experience for her. The metaphor of someone “picking the lock” to her body conveys her vulnerability and emphasizes the involuntary nature of sensory overload, directly reinforcing the challenges of  Combating Sensory Overwhelm and Finding Coping Strategies for Daily Life. The “muddy shoes” detail adds a sense of violation, emphasizing how distressing and intrusive everyday stimuli can be for her.

“Whatever you do, 

always 

be on your Best Behavior. 

Follow the rules. 

Otherwise, people will know 

what you’re really like 

and who knows what they might do?”

The capitalized phrase “Best Behavior” functions like a command, illustrating the degree to which Selah internalizes external expectations of perfection. The ominous warning that others might react negatively to her authentic self reflects the challenges of masking, as she equates safety with rigid self-control. The line breaks slow the pace, mirroring her careful self-monitoring and the emotional burden of constantly regulating her behavior.

“I’ve been trying to be reasonable, 

but I feel my Normal mask 

starting to crack. Would that really be worse, 

unreasonable, 

than always being scared, 

always holding 

all the bad feelings in?”

The metaphor of wearing a “Normal mask” hints at the emotional labor of masking and reveals the toll that this largely unconscious process takes on Selah’s well-being. The contrast between being “reasonable” and “unreasonable” highlights Selah’s tendency to measure herself against neurotypical standards even as she questions whether conformity is worth the cost. This moment reflects a key thematic crossroads as she begins to reconsider her urge to suppress her needs. The passage reinforces the challenges of masking and hints at her later movement toward Self-Expression as a Tool for Advocacy.

“All I’m saying is 

people make too much of a fuss 

over folks who are different.”

Pop’s statement reflects his blunt philosophy and his summary dismissal of mainstream social norms, and it is clear that he resists masking altogether. His casual dismissal of society’s discomfort with neurodivergent people’s differences highlights one pole of the novel’s spectrum of coping strategies; the opposite approach is embodied in Sue’s extreme conflict-avoidance. This line also illuminates Selah’s internal tension, for although she admires Pop’s honesty, she also fears the consequences of being openly different herself.

“I’m no different 

than my rude neighbors. 

Maybe the girls at the sleepover 

were right to tiptoe around me. 

What if I am a time bomb, 

if I make everyone angry 

like Pop made Mom tonight? 

What if it’s not OK 

to be a dragon?”

This moment captures Selah’s spiraling self-doubt as she internalizes others’ reactions to her overwhelm. The metaphor of a “time bomb” reflects her fear that her emotions make her dangerous or unpredictable, mirroring the shame that children with autism often experience when they lack language to describe their sensory overload. The line “What if it’s not OK / to be a dragon?” signals a crisis of identity, contrasting her symbolic inner strength with her belief that authenticity leads to rejection.

“So it’s not just me 

feeling that bonfire in my gut? 

Pop feels it too?”

This realization marks a moment in which Selah begins to feel a new sense of kinship with her grandfather, understanding that her intense emotions are shared traits within her family. The metaphor of a “bonfire” communicates the intensity and the vitality of these feelings. The line also introduces a metafictional resonance as Selah’s discovery that she is not alone parallels the novel’s goal of showing readers with autism that their inner experiences are valid and shared as well. This moment subtly supports the notion of self-expression as a tool for advocacy.

“But I’m like 

that ripping trash bag, 

and all that smelly stuff 

is coming out, 

showing just how strange 

I really am on the inside 

and who wants to hang out 

with a smelly bag of trash for a friend?”

The extended metaphor of a “ripping trash bag” exposes Selah’s fear that losing control will reveal her “strangeness” and drive others away. The sensory imagery mirrors her internalized shame and the harsh self-judgments that she falls into whenever her masking fails to keep her socially safe. This metaphor illustrates the degree to which internalized ableism has shaped her self-worth, for she interprets emotional honesty as something messy and undesirable, and she does not yet appreciate that it is a normal human reaction. The imagery also reinforces the section’s rising tension toward the breaking point of her identity crisis.

“Sleep 

with your back arched, ready to fight 

because your species is endangered— 

you’re the only dragon 

in a world built for people.”

Here, the dragon metaphor becomes a symbol of both vulnerability and strength. Describing herself as an “endangered species,” Selah expresses her intense isolation. Her use of animalistic imagery (“back arched, ready to fight”) captures the hypervigilance produced by masking and sensory overload, reinforcing her experiences with combating sensory overwhelm and finding coping strategies for daily life. Yet the dragon also represents her inner resilience, suggesting that although she feels alone, she possesses an identity that is worth defending.

“I was right the rules were right no one wants the real Selah inside just the bootleg imitation of a girl she pretended to be.”

The absence of punctuation and line breaks mirrors Selah’s spiraling thoughts, creating a breathless rush that reflects her panic and her collapsing sense of identity. The contrast between the “real Selah” and the “bootleg imitation” underscores the emotional toll of the challenges of masking, revealing her misguided belief that her authentic self is unacceptable.

“I need my rules— 

don’t I?”

The abrupt line break before the question disrupts the rhythm of the poem, visually depicting Selah’s hesitation and growing uncertainty about the structure she has always relied on. The em dash signals an unfinished thought, as though she is interrupting herself, and this strategic syntax suggests that her rules are no longer providing her with the stability that she once believed them to offer. This moment marks the critical point at which she begins questioning the emotional cost of masking, and her contemplations open the door to a critical reevaluation of her identity.

“I always thought I was part of the Pebblecreek family 

but maybe you’re only part of the Pebblecreek family 

if you’re able to be just like everyone else.”

The ironic repetition of the phrase “Pebblecreek family” emphasizes the contrast between the school’s stated values and Selah’s lived experience. The conditional phrasing—“if you’re able to be just like everyone else”—exposes the exclusionary nature of environments whose claim to inclusivity only extends to those who conform to its arbitrary rules of behavior. This line exposes Selah’s realization that her school’s sense of community is conditional at best, and she must to confront the emotional cost of trying to belong by contorting herself into a wholly inauthentic persona.

“The dragon inside me 

opens its wings 

and wants to fly 

out over the front yard. 

I flap my hands 

like I might fly away too.”

Here, the dragon becomes a symbol of joy, power, and liberation. By aligning Selah’s hand-flapping—a stereotypical autistic stim—with the image of a dragon taking flight, Kuyatt reframes stimming as a natural expression of emotional intensity. This moment is designed to challenge the common presumption that stimming is inherently disruptive, for the images of flight inject an element of defiant freedom into the narrative, celebrating this form of autistic expression and implicitly criticizing anyone who would seek to suppress this behavior.

“People say ‘autism’ 

the same way 

they say things like 

‘cancer.’”

With this stark comparison between “autism” and “cancer,” Selah exposes the damaging effects of pathologizing language that warps public perceptions of neurodivergence. By highlighting the tone in which people speak these words, the poem critiques a culture that frames autism as inherently tragic or harmful. The passage is part of the author’s broader goal of advancing the social model of autism and challenging the medical model that has long dominated the mainstream narrative on this neurotype.

“Mom, 

why 

do we have to 

care 

so much 

about Normal?”

Although Selah does not speak this question aloud, the fragmented line structure mirrors the tentative nature of her growing self-awareness. The vertical drop of single-word lines visually emphasizes the weight of the capitalized word “Normal,” an onerous but nebulous concept that dominates Selah’s and Sue’s daily life. As Selah begins to challenge the rules she has lived by, she grows closer to breaking free of conformity and embracing her differences from neurotypical society.

“One more problem. That’s what 

I am to people now, even 

my mom. A 

problem.”

The repetition of the word “problem” reinforces Selah’s internalization of her community and her family’s external judgments, illustrating how quickly she has absorbed and internalized the language of deficiency. The staggered, broken phrasing visually enacts her sense of fragmentation and emotional rupture. This moment reflects the psychological consequences of stigma, for she begins to view her existence as burdensome, intensifying the tension involved in the challenges of masking.

“Maybe my rules 

worry too much about 

what other people think 

Maybe Pop’s rules 

don’t think enough 

about how other people feel.”

Presented as a complete poem titled “Maybe,” this reflection demonstrates a major development in Selah’s self-awareness. The poem’s brevity and symmetrical structure underscore the importance of this realization within her character arc. For the first time, she recognizes the limitations of the models that she has inherited. By positioning her rules and Pop’s rules side by side, she begins imagining a middle path—one that is grounded in authenticity and empathy.

“How many times 

have I been angry 

because people assumed 

things about me— 

yet this whole time, 

how much have I assumed 

about Noelle? 

About 

everyone 

else?”

This moment of introspection highlights Selah’s capacity for empathy and self-correction, both of which are crucial steps in repairing relationships after harm. In the first stanza, Selah reflects on her own experience, and in the second, she looks more critically at her own approach and realizes that she has also been guilty of misunderstanding those around her. The isolated words “everyone / else?” accentuate her growing realization that everyone she knows bears their own secret emotional landscape, and she recognizes the need to create space for reconciliation and deeper connections with her friends.

“I couldn’t help but think about 

my poems 

and how maybe 

hanging my poems 

would not just help me 

get out my feelings 

but help change things for the better.”

This passage captures the full emergence of self-expression as a tool for advocacy. The possessive tone of the repeated phrase “my poems” emphasizes fact that her writing and her unique voice are one and the same. When she pivots from the goal of expressing herself (“get out my feelings”) to making a communal impact (“change things for the better”), these lines suggest that she has found a way to rejoin the community that has so grievously misjudged her.

“The dragon inside me 

wakes up, 

pacing through my chest.”

This metaphor animates the dragon as a physical presence, embodying Selah’s rising confidence and emotional intensity. Unlike earlier moments in which the dragon symbolized social danger or loss of control, here it represents a stirring awareness of her own power and agency. The verb “pacing” suggests restlessness and readiness, signaling that Selah has gained the internal strength to make bold changes in her external environment.

“Even if I follow 

all my rules, 

even if I write good poems, 

nothing will change 

the fact that I am different 

and Principal Merkert 

doesn’t want 

someone like me here.”

This reflection reveals Selah’s realization that masking cannot guarantee acceptance within systems that fundamentally misunderstand or reject neurodivergence. The cumulative structure of “even if” clauses underscores her mounting frustration as she recognizes the limits of complying with arbitrary standards. The line breaks isolate the phrase “someone like me,” emphasizing the exclusionary attitudes embodied by Principal Merkert; this approach allows the author to implicitly critique the institutional biases that mistake difference for deficiency.

“It’s hard to tell 

what are real rules 

and what are my rules 

from the way they grow together 

like vines in a bush.”

The extended simile compares Selah’s rules to interwoven vines, illustrating the fact that her masking habits have become entwined with her sense of self. The imagery suggests that her rules have multiplied beyond their original purpose until they have obscured the boundaries between her school’s external expectations and her own self-policing. This moment of insight marks a key stage in her development, as Selah begins distinguishing between imposed norms and authentic needs.