Autism Awareness Month Post Twenty-Two: Where Are They Now?


I’ve turned away a lot of people over my lifetime. Some I didn’t mind turning away (like my Dad, but that’s another story), and others I didn’t know well enough to care either way, but then there’s the ones I regret every single day. The ones you see in your reflection in the mirror. The ones they write songs about. The ones that make you feel less than human for ever letting go.

For me, there’s this one…it was this girl I met a few years ago. Around my age. Pretty.  Blonde. Lived in Baltimore, too. Funny. Very talented writer. Everything I’ve always wanted in a girl. I didn’t know what happened, but we just stopped talking. I couldn’t figure out why at first, and so I was mad at her for while. Maybe I just looked too deep into her, or maybe she was too shallow. Then it hit me.

I remember how I used to text her constantly. And call a lot (if you can’t tell I’m going against a lot of my aspergian tendencies. Tells you how much I liked this girl). I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t think it was wrong, for people who liked each other to talk a lot, and she took it well for a while. And then she told. “It’s really annoying” she said in an early morning text, and that was the last I’ve heard from her.

I didn’t know as much about my Aspergers then, and I didn’t understand that I was intruding on her personal space. I feel like a terrible fool nowadays, and I wish I could meet her just once to apologize for everything. We don’t even have to become friends, it would just feel good to actually be honest with her. I was desperate to make friends back then, so I never told her about my condition. Anyway, this is a poem about her. If she’s reading this, well, it may be too much too late, but I had to write this to bring some closure regarding the incident, and the hope that one day I’ll be able to make it right.


Boarded the number ten

as light rain sends the birds

scurrying to the shadows

there’s but a few men

seated sporadically

on the star speckled seats

time alone for this lonely soul

is a rarefied treat

I pass through my city

sober seems to be the mood

with the cloudy sky putting a dent

in many afternoon

some are talking on cell phones

other eating lunch

still steaming in brown styrofoam containers

some hustle down the blocks

some idle in green crocs

those shoes disgust me

Light Rail goes by

I think of heading to work

and enjoying a peach fry pie

on to the number eleven

passing the Charles Street metro

I can’t remember how to forget

how I was a lot more ignorant

and subsequently braver

how I’d approach her with confidence

and think of consequences later

I think she liked that

I think she liked that a lot

but the charm wore off

as the autistic traits I tried to hide

knocked on my wood

I kid you not, it shrunk

as time wore on, she became distant

and I become resistant

at the sight of what had become

and I haven’t heard of her in two years

what have I done




30 thoughts on “Autism Awareness Month Post Twenty-Two: Where Are They Now?

  1. Your poem has a strong sense of aloneness, Devereaux, and regret. Beautifully written and I hope writing it gave you some closure. I’m so glad you are writing and sharing yourself here. Stay strong, my friend. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Who you are as a person, your character is one thing. How people receive you is something we have little control over. I have been coached to let others that I deal with on a more extended basis be aware of my neuro-atypical status. It helps others have realistic expectations…. or it could scare them away even quicker. I’m ambivalent about the benefits of disclosure.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. It is just life my friend whether we have a condition or not, I went through the same just recently.

    I feel lost… damned if I do damned if I don’t….my heart tells me to tell my side, but my head says don’t bother….

    I, like you, have been upfront honest. Some people just don’t wanna hear what we have to say or feel. They make a decision that effects both parties and that’s the part that sucks.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. So beautifully written. I could feel your heart in this. I have had my share of friends I lost over time in similar ways so definitely understand.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Yes. Definitely painful. And yes, I found myself trying time and again to fill voids in a variety of ways. Never helped but often made me feel worse. Prayer was and is my saving grace.


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