Neurodivergent: the ramblings of an autistic woman

Just my take on my world outside of the entanglements of poetry, I want people like me to know they aren’t alone.

My name is Annalysia; "Anna" for short. I am a 29 year old single mother. I work on the weekdays and I have the weekends off to spend with my 10 year old son (when he feels like loving me). I struggle on the day to day and I hope to do at least one good deed a day. I have hobbies, hopes and dreams, just like anyone else in this world. As a parent, I hope my child succeeds where I failed. I pray that my son finds love and gives me grandchildren one day. I pray that my son gets to see the world, as I once dreamed to...

The thought came to me to write a book on a random day when I was scrolling through Facebook while thinking about life.
(I mostly like to contemplate death, but that's only when I'm stressed out).
However, when I thought about writing a book, I wondered: who on earth is going to want to read another book about the struggles, life and memories of someone else? There are far more worthy people than a single mother who lives paycheck to paycheck. Sure, the written words of another memorializes them in a way. Even if what I'm writing appeals to no one and the pages that these letters appear on end up yellowing with age and falling into a hole somewhere, they are written.
My voice for whatever it's worth is captured and is marked as a dot in the river that is time. No matter how small it may be, this can serve as proof that a woman like me existed. And maybe if another woman like me comes across it... She won't feel so alone in the maze that is her mind.

Because that is my reality: a maze that I often find myself trapped in. A simple question like "How are you" will send me on a spiral.
How am I?
How am I?
How am I?

The question will circle about my brain, escaping me as I ponder those three little words: 'How are you?' The Question will flutter about my headspace, reminding me that I have something to do, while I figure out what it is that I have to do. And then I'll feel their eyes, their presence boring into mine and it can be overwhelming to the point where I'm wondering: 'why are they staring at me like that?'
'Did I something wrong?'
'Did I miss something?'
'Were they talking? Am I supposed to talk?'

Then, I start to internally panic; they are too close to me. Do I move back? There are times when Im moving away before the thought even has the chance to cross my mind. There are also times when people ask me that question and they don't get an answer. Because how do I answer a question like that? I was taught, when I was younger, that when people ask you, 'how are you' they are being polite. And I should be polite in return. I should tell them how I am, most people will say "good." or "Fine." And ask the question in return,
Me? I skip the answer and reply with, "How are you?" And then I smile then I go about my business, praying that I did the right thing and that they don't ask me anything else.

Sometimes my mind will envision an ice burg and I'm the ship heading straight toward it. While I'm dallying and internally panicking, the iceberg is getting closer and closer. And when I successfully do my part of the salutation, I'm saved (sometimes).
I’ll bet thats’ pretty weird: that I visualize virtually any type of contact with basically anyone as a highly dangerous situation, huh? Perhaps I should rewrite my introduction:
"My name is Annalysia, and I am a high functioning Autistic woman."

Author's Note

I’m more interested in the flow of the writing than I am in the grammar problems, I’m a writer but I’m an autistic one and grammar is like tiny puzzle pieces that are near impossible to place in my writing