Nightcore Can Be Elegant and Deep Too

I really, really like this Nightcore video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F6GMVUrVLNc

It’s so, so stimmy. Somehow it’s been moved an octave or so up and it *still* sounds like the voice is deeper. The violins in the background are nice, but then it has a…it’s not quite a pop or rock tone, it’s something else entirely. It’s kinda like Lindsey Sterling’s older songs, sort of, but sadder.

It’s so, so bittersweet. It’s so much more nuanced than a lot of songs I come across, and I really want to hear what the original song sounds like now for some reason.

Plus, I have my own, rather different and personal interpretation of the song.

The song reminds me so much about all of my Neurodivergent and Disabled peers.

“No time for rest
No pillow for my head
No where to run from this
No way to forget

Around the shadows creep
Like friends they cover me
Just wanna lay me down
And finally try to get some sleep”

(Sounds like how tired we get, fighting the abuse we get. Going home every day in April, knowing the entire month is dedicated to eradicating you, your friends, your culture, and make sure none of you exist in a few generations. Bruised wrists from ABA, forced to pass as Neurotypical everyday…)

“We carry on, through the storm
Tired soldiers, in this war
Remember what we’re fighting for

Meet me on the battlefield
Even on the darkest night
I will be your sword and shield your camouflage
And you will be mine”

(….We remember what made us. We fight with tooth and nail, to secure even the most basic human rights. That I am at university when my neurosiblings are so oppressed as to not be admitted on falsely-perceived incapabilities, just because they cannot create words with their mouths, even though there are other forms of communication, speaks volumes to my privilege in saying this.

The fact that some of us are force-fed [in the best cases, fed] bleach to “cure” us of being ourselves, and yet people get away this this, a slap on the wrist at best. This state-sanctioned child abuse is called MMS.

Even on the darkest nights, when despair sets in, the Autistic community stands strong, together. We don’t ask stupid questions, because the stuff we’ve been through is indeed, very, very stupid at best. At worst, we’ve been through things where we should have been dead. The sword is our voice, our shield that we have survived, and our camouflage is our masking as Neurotypical. We dread that mask, but we use it, when needed, nonetheless. We are there for each other, we support each other, we are each others swords and shields.)

“Echos of the shots ring out
We may be the first to fall
Everything can stay the same
Or we can change it all
Meet me on the battlefield”

(It seems as if these things have happened before. It may as well be that way. Anti-vaxxers still abound, even though that guy was proven a fraud, his license taken away. What does it say about you when you’d rather have a *dead* child than an *Autistic* one?

I want to scream, I want to be heard through the echoing projectiles of illogic and neurobiggotry. I am sick of this. The eyebags are permanent I guess. All I can do is keep fighting, and hope some benevolent soul sees this, and decides it’s time for Acceptance, and not mere Awareness.)

“We’re standing face to face
With our own human race
We commit the sins again
And our sons and daughters pay

Our tainted history
Is playing on repeat
But we can change it if we stand up strong and take the lead”

(Do people know? Look at the #BoycottToSiri hashtag; the tag was made because a book, called “To Siri, With Love” was written as a memoir by the mother of an Autistic child. She wants to forcibly sterilize him at 18.

That’s called eugenics. That’s an echo of World War Two, where 400 thousand disabled people had this happen to them.

It’s a mistake. It’s a mistake. Yes, our sons and daughters, and our non-binaries too, they all pay because biodiversity is dying not just in the wilderness, but so too in the concrete jungles of our species.

But we still speak out: we will not go softly into the night.)

“When I was younger, I was named
A generation, unafraid
For years to come , be brave

Meet me on the battlefield
Even on the darkest night
I will be your sword and shield your camouflage
And you will be mine”

(In fact, we will win this time. People are starting to care. People are noticing, and if they do not then we will make them notice.

This is not politics; it is a civil rights, no, a human rights movement, so these mistakes never happen again, so we can thrive and prosper and have the same opportunities and dreams that so many Neurotypical, Able-bodied people have had for so much longer than us.)

“Echos of the shots ring out
We may be the first to fall
Everything can stay the same
Or we can change it all
Meet me on the battlefield
Meet me on the battlefield”

(We will leave a legacy of, at least, hope. We will keep pushing forward. We are seen as the weakest, but we are the strongest. For having gone so, so long without being seen as human.

I’m proud to be part of the Disability Cultures. I hope that one day, Allies can meet us on the battlefield to help us obtain what is ours.)

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