“_ _ _ _”
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
Victim.
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
held
over
me…
Prologue:
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?
Never.
You never have, so
Once you’re labelled with autism
Your credibility is shot
Down in the gutter,
Shattered into tiny little irreplaceable
Pieces
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.
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
or
- 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
and
their
fancy
words.
However,
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.
Honestly,
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,
built,
dependant,
on looks
rather than the
soul.
Epilogue:
Realities of an Autistic
- 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 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
