I am Autism but it’s Personal
I am Autism. I’m a gift, but I’m the only gift with a price tag. Trivia isn’t the only fixation you can have. Those seemingly insignificant traumas you had as a kid? I’ll make them your fixation too. Your obsession. Without your pain, you are nothing. You act tough, but you’re terrified. And I take great pleasure in that. I laugh, knowing that you’d rather carve your own guts out samurai-style than admit your pain. I will magnify your shame to the point that your greatest accomplishment is the mask you hide behind like the coward you are. A mask that will crush you like a house of cards under its own weight. I am autism. You tried to suppress me. That was a mistake.
And to Autism I say: I am a writer, a gamer, a tech wiz, a nerd. We spend every day making our lives worth living. We look down on those who can’t handle us at our worst because we handle you everyday. I’m a kid riding on my robot towards your star fleet. Just try and shoot me down, I’ll tank it. And I’ve got backup, the compassion of mothers and daughters, of fathers and sons. And because admitting my struggles is the only way to heal, that’s a bitter pill I’m willing to swallow because my love for myself is stronger than your lies of hate. I have challenges, but overcoming them is what I do best. You think false visions of the future will spook me? You think that stuffing me in a skull-shaped cage will stop me from prying open the bars with my bare hands? Recognize you, I do. Power over me, you have not. Autism, are you listening?