Collective Perspectives

April 14, 2021

“_ _ _ _”

You tell me I’m your love

             When I am your victim.

You tell me Goodnight

            When you put the “Night” in my Nightmares.

You say I should be grateful to be by your side

             But the only “great” thing to be grateful for is when I am miles away from you.

You say I’m your princess but why do I feel like I’m the damsel in distress

                                               in our tragic story.


                                There are words that I can’t express,  


                                                But I will try, 

                                                       I will try,

                                                              try me.


         You put the forgot in forgotten and

         The “live” in livid

         And who can forget the drama in dramatic?


                        “But darling-”


        Don’t you dare tell me you’ve forgotten about the broken glass littered across my floor? Now sit down and let me speak.


You put the “lie” in believe 

             and shattered my hopes and dreams.

You crumbled the “care” in careful

             and now I have to watch my back.

You smother the “gentle” from gentleman

            and now I have another bruise on my back.

Oh! And the “end” in friend.


          Makes me doubt the “The End” ended happily ever after.


There’s no I in difficulty but “U” since my path crossed yours

You cherry-pick your victims

But this time, 

            This time,

                    you picked the wrong 




You say you are a man

             But the only “man” you are 

             is the man in  manipulate.

They say death do us part

But they never clarified which death that was.

             Did they mean metaphorically or literally?

                        Because the only thing that died

Was the power 

         your words







Expectations: For an Autistic

Trust over the truth.

That’s how our world works.

You don’t believe me? Well,

When have you ever seen a case where the defendant won,

Without the jury’s trust?


You never have, so

Once you’re labelled with autism

Your credibility is shot

Down in the gutter,

Shattered into tiny little irreplaceable 


Because you’re disabled,

Easy to manipulate,

A mindless being,

With no thoughts of your own.

It’s like the first amendment doesn’t apply 

To you

Or your community.


You’re an easy target.


Yes. Yes, you are. Don’t deny

Your true internal thoughts.

Life will be easy if you succumb to them

And if you have siblings… good luck

Because if they screw up, your head will be served on a silver platter

Because if you aren’t one of the lucky ones, you won’t be able to use your tongue to defend yourself, because

It feels as if it’s been poured with lead, immobile, 

Not even able to ask for water to wash off the rust.


Better pay attention during Speech Therapy.

Your gonna need it if

You’re going to survive their society.


 i. The Prodigy 


I’m Lucky.

Not normal,


Lucky that my disorder does not blemish my abilities,

That it did not make me immobile like the others.

  • Speech Therapy
  • Occupational Therapy

None of that for me.

My parents are relieved that their money,

Their hard-earned money,

Won’t go towards 

  • Diapers
  • Child safety gadgets 
  • Hospital bills
  • Planning for the uncertain.


Necessities for those who had succumbed to their kryptonite. 

I may be lucky,

But I am alone.

With no 

  • Community
  • Group


  • Friends 


To talk about my day,

Discuss the curiosities we have about the world,

Like why Fall is considered a beautiful season when everything is decomposing?

Or why we can’t see the stars as clearly as we do in the movies?

But…there’s nothing for me to say to anyone,

Except for the pages in this worn-out leather.

So please, when I write to you,

Don’t treat me like I’m your patient

Because your presence is the only medication I need.

ii. Mild

They think I don’t know.


They think I don’t understand them








These walls are paper-thin

           like the pieces of paper I scratch in my notebook.

Their Whispers leak through the plaster

           exactly like my tears seep through the paper

And into my ears

          They ring and ring and ring and echo until they bleed.

They think I don’t know

             Because I’m mentally challenged.

Little do their neurotypical minds comprehend…

Is that I am what they call “Special”.


Though they use this word as a glorious praise to prodigies,

The gifted,

The talented,

The abled,

The capable,

The gifted ones,

The prodigies.


Day in and day out it is the same

Mondays: are speech therapies,

Wednesday: occupational therapies.


There’s a headache, a constant reminder that I’m broken…

That I need to be fixed.

But… how do you fix the wires of a brain?

But it’s a good thing I have you to disclose to.

You don’t talk,

Therefore, you can’t lie,

You can’t think,

Therefore you can’t judge me.

And lastly, you’re made out of blank paper, dead trees.

Therefore, I can say anything I like, because here

I am free, I make my own world,

A world I cannot be judged or looked at weirdly

I can tell you my secrets and no one will know.

And I can insert all my anger and hatred in you

And not at my family

You’re my best friend.


Sincerely, your atypical human.


iii. Severe

I can think but I

Cannot speak.

I try but the words gurgle and contour into inhumane sounds underneath my

Tongue full of lead.


I’m not stupid.

I’m not dumb.

I’m not an idiot.


But I realize

In this world

Our society is founded,



on looks

rather than the




Realities of an Autistic

  1. Get used to being talked to like a baby,

Because your disconnected brain defines you as mentally challenged.

     2. Speech Therapy and Occupational Therapy.

Get used to it. It’s going to be hard… but it will help you improve if you survive in this wretched, wretched world built for neurotypicals.

     3. Family 

Oh boy… good luck with that. Especially when you have siblings. Because you need to learn how to deal with the blame. Sure, you share the same blood with them, but the sibling rivalry is real. 


Anisah Khan

Anisah Khan is a high school Senior in Spring, Texas. Her interest in writing started when she was in 7th grade but her love for writing formed when she competed in the Scholastic Writing Competition in high school which helped her discover who she is as a writer. Her favorite genres to write are short stories, fiction, and poetry. Other than writing she is a Violist and has been playing the Viola for six years.

Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash