I talk a lot on this blog about my shortcomings with Aspergers, mainly how difficult things like making friends and social interaction are. I talk about how hard it is to deal with being left out, because you’re shy or not “cool” enough. It’s hard to fit in, and while it’s not easy watching other people succeed at something while you trip, stumble, and fall over it every time, it doesn’t mean I don’t wish.
I wish a lot.
I’ve wished a lot of things. I wished I killed myself when I was seven. I wish my Dad killed me so I wouldn’t have to look at myself everyday with the same scars, the same sores, and tell myself I’m okay. I wished I’d walk out of the house during a drive-by, so I could put an end to all the pain in my head. I wished I had the courage to string myself up to a tree, or put a bullet in my heart, and rid the world of all my shit, all my failures, and all my inabilities. I wish people would stop trying to be friends with me, so they wouldn’t have to see what’s really inside me, what’s really on this side of the screen that seems to draw in so many. I wish…
In spite of those wishes, I’ve had a few nice ones, too. I wish I was sociable and confident, and I could get a job so I could stop seeing my Mom do it. I wish I was confident, and I could lead group discussions in classes I attend. I wish I was confident and sociable, so I could stand out. I wish I was strong, and didn’t carry the not egregious but noticeable belly fat that I do. (Started an exercise program to help with that!)
But my greatest wish?
That I could be in a relationship. With a girl. Long-term. Like. Forever.
I want one of those romances that just goes on and on and on. Love that has no age. Love that stretches us thin but fills us and breathes on us. Love that makes you run down city blocks just to see her again. Love that people cry in movie theaters about. Love that people write about. Love that makes people quite addictions. Love that changes the hardest of hearts. Love that cures illnesses. Love that…
I know it probably won’t ever happen, but I can dream. I don’t know what to look for, but maybe she’s looking for me. Maybe she’s already found me, and she’s waiting for the right time. Or maybe she’s waiting for me to come out my shell. If so, she’s damn patient, because it’s been seventeen years and I still can barely get my head out. Maybe it’s false hope, maybe it’s just a fantasy-turned-obsession that will never pan out…
Or maybe it’s real and I’m listening to the doubt, again.
Wherever she is. Until she is. I wrote this…(maybe for her?)
“You had a great night? Awesome, I did too. I’m gonna be so sore in the morning.”
“So, uh, see you next weekend?”
“Alright. Night, Tracy.”
It’s early in the morning, just past three
Happiness, and excited wishes, my company
Walking down your block
as I mind wanders, I’ve over stimulated with thought
I’m really glad I could make you smile
even if it meant running for eight miles
because I know what it means to you
not to just love me, but for me to love you too
Hearing your voice brightens my day
I’d listen to your voice mail and let time tick away
I’m done being a boy
with someone else’s time being another fleeting toy
This life is so new
and of my inexperience, I’m sure you knew
But we don’t care
We just want to enjoy the moment, then and there
We have separate minds
but our hearts are still entwined
I know we might have to be far away,
but I know we’ll find our way
back to where it all began
where you and I first ran