Would You Rather Be The Disease Or The Cure

Quiet room

never empty, never full

always wishing someone

or something

could find in it a use

sitting in the heat of summer

and the cool of winter

initials carved in the bed frame

remind the emptiness how much he misses her

dust collects on unattended shelves

as the shadows take off their masks

and rest in this somber place of dwelling

windows rust, and sight into the world

becomes anyone’s guess

not even the Titanic herself

compares to this tragic mess

how one can fall

from the height of life

to lows

even zombies couldn’t comprehend

caught up in a whirlwind of love, lust, life

and feigned shots at immortality

does anyone even know what’s a sin

would you rather be the cure

or the disease

doing wonders behind closed doors

or all-powerful at the expense of every living thing

don’t pretend

don’t pretend

 

If I Woke Up Next To You

What would I give
what would I be okay to lose
if I woke up next to you
what would happen
to the animal inside
the beast that only I knew
if I woke up next to you
my days are too long
and nights far too short
cut the umbilical cord of joy
abort the fetus of happiness
cry me a river if you will
until it drowns the world
like a bitter pill to a suicidal teen
or a ten year old girl in a short skirt
a perverts wet dream
where would these horrors sleep
and bear their marks with wretched claws on my brow
even as I write to you
they weigh upon me now
I don’t deserve these shackles
chains span distances used to astronauts
if I woke up next to you
would you even recognize me
or would you stare into eyes
tormented by today’s wedding vows
and yesterday’s make-up sex
if I woke up next to you
it would all be a dream
because I could never love you
as much I’d want to believe
I beg of you
save me now
before long, I will puncture this heart
and do it myself
when I wake up next to you

You Only Know Who You Think I Am

Poetically cunning

words leaving brains and hearts humming

and while you’re eager to read on

you only know who you think I am

late night writes with Pete Wentz in my ears

in attempt to ward off nightmarish fears

but I put on a smile to cover it up

so you only know who you think I am

work is mental drudgery, and family is worse

but my good moods come in spurts

they think I’m okay

but you only know who you think I am

inside I feel like I’m dying

and this week wants to make me stop trying

but I don’t tell you what’s really going on

and you only know who you think I am

I stand in the pouring rain

there’s little I like better

but you think I’m insane

and I let you believe who you think I am

I sit by myself, I have no friends

hell, it takes me ten minutes just to press send

you think I’m antisocial and crude

stupid world, you only know who you think I am

I write everyday

to reveal everything

and nothing

to make you think you know who I am

I am depressed, anxious, angry, and dejected

broken, shy, disheartened, and rejected

failure makes me afraid to try again

socially I have to pretend

I hope I’m not like this forever

because there’s gotta be someone out there

I just haven’t met her

or I did

and I failed her

(now I’m regretting everything again)

you no longer have to guess, now

you know who I really am

 

Panic Stricken Heart Of A Lonely Autistic

Staring at sunlight

falling behind fading clouds

as the crickets sing each other to sleep

I turn away from the world

slide down the wall

trying to feel where the breaths hurt

the floorboards creaking

and the backdoor shaking

brings back memories

I tried to put them out

no amount of rent could cover the charges

of eighteen years of pain

but they don’t listen to me, they don’t care

they made fun of my name

Fearing the worst, I back into a corner

putting my hands in front of my eyes

maybe they’ll take me

take me away for good this time

that’s foolish, because they never do

enough hate to paralyze you

but just enough love to open you up

to make you do it all again

the lights outside try to find me

but I’m hidden in the deep

you can call my name

but I’m hidden in a dream

the rabbit hole

that never ends

the doctor who said I was healed

was playing pretend

I live life one third open

and three-fourths closed

hating your presence mostly

but secretly wishing

 you’ll take me home

to a place of sunshine and clouds

flowering fields and trees

to happily cry under

and removing the doubts

that have plagued me for so long

I, finally, can lift my head

and sing a happy song

If only such a place

existed in my world

If only…

 

Taking My Own Life

I just might give up

on life

maybe get reincarnated

and allowed to make it right

everywhere I go

people seem to be laughing

and everywhere I go

the masquerade is crashing

I’m not ten anymore, I can’t hide behind my family

I’m nearly an adult, even though I don’t want to be

I don’t feel like I’m ready

I . Don’t. Feel. Ready.

I can’t make friends, my family doesn’t even like me

“he’s not much fun to be around” I heard my mom say

and brother and sister agreed

“he hears more than you think he does”

that’s also true

and it’s why I hate you

uprooted me out of my home

never gave me a chance to adjust

and threw me a few miles north

become a man I must

or risk losing all I ever had

which was just pens, notebooks,

a nearly full writing pad

just over 225 blog posts, three award winning articles

and one published in the October 2015 Edition

of Teen Ink

but they never let me think

the way I was created to

they just expect me to function

the way they do

no wonder I fail, you stupid asshole

excuse the profanity

but I just can’t take it anymore

no space to be an Aspergian

no space to be me

but underground has plenty of room

that I’m sure you can see

the tension is rising, the anger turning me raw

my mouth bleeds

from the pressure of it all

I read works of other aspies

and see how they overcome

(thanks Laina, Beth, Marisa, Keely)

(I’m sure I’m forgetting some)

but they can’t solve my pain

they can’t give me a family

that understands my name

talk behind my back, just like my Dad did

but told me he was this terrible person

and here you are, pretending to be holier than thou

I guess that makes you worse, then

all I’ve ever wanted

all I’ve truly wanted

was a family who understands me

someone who hears me

and someone who loves me

for who I am

not what they want me to be

not what their eyes can see

I am autistic, but human first

please, let me live happily

God forbid I tell them

how I feel

they’ll just shrug it off

the weirdo at it again with another squeal

so I bury it deep inside

deep inside my bones

it’s rotting my mind

stealing my time

and taking me away from home

or maybe I want it to

take me away from them

they don’t know me, they never will

I can’t be free, so to this heart

can I kill?

 

 

Autism Awareness Month Post Eighteen: What is Aspergers To Me?

Aspergers

what is it to me?

A cancer

that only I can see?

A poison

drunk by the unborn soul at birth?

A dent, a scratch

that devalued my worth?

A bolt from a complete machine

that keeps me doomed

from reaching your sweet?

A scarlet mark on my chest

to serve as a marker

for scorn from the rest?

A road to suicide

because one spirit

cannot see a way out this mess?

I see it as all

and none

because I look not at what I was

but what I’ve become

I’m not what I’ve done

I’ve what I’ve overcome

A unique condition that challenges others

to accept what we give out sporadically

but challenges the autistic further

by forcing him or her

to accept what they are daily

See, others can chose to live us with us or not

but we must live with ourselves day after day

you can put on any mask and don any cape

try as we may, there is no other way

real autism doesn’t ask for money

because all the riches in the world

couldn’t buy us an once of normality

real autism only asks for your ears

that you listen to our wishes and fears

what we love and what we hate

why a pattern we are quick to replicate

and in time our words imprint on you something no

Benjamin could ever replace

 

Autism Awareness Month Post Sixteen: Crying On The Couch Because Aspergers Holds Me Back

Head throbbing

stories in my head keep reoccurring

waking up is always a struggle

because life is a tussle

between anxiety and responsibility

desire and mental makeup

consistency and wish for a shake up

family, coworkers, strangers

they’re all the same

they don’t see the wave, they don’t know the pain

but they never could

and I don’t wish they would

the wave is silent, and it swallows

the water is deep, and I wallow

“drowning the tears of this Aspergian rain”

I once said, and say again

the silence drives me insane

past people I love, towards people I hate

past things I’d never emulate, yet do everyday

white as the winter, black as the summer

I stand out among the crowd

hoping not to be seen

keeping low, not to make a sound

narrow as her waist, straight as her hair

I’m to anxious to join you

and I won’t go anywhere

the jet black crow mocks my days

and I hurl stones at him

get out of my way

but I am the crow

you are the stone

I tell myself I’m okay

into your hands I play

only to be cast aside at the light of day

through self-depreciation

I raise you up

and I lower the white flag

at your approval

 

Autism Awareness Month Post Eleven: Guys Are Supposed To Make The First Move, But What About Autistic Guys?

 

In the normal world, it’s usually the guy that makes his interest in a partner known first. (At least, that’s how I was raised.) And I’m perfectly okay with that. The guy should call the girl first, and he should be the one to make arrangements for dates and the like. Feminists and New Agers can argue with me if they like, but (most of the time) I’ll side with the old way of doing things. There’s just one problem:

What if the man is on the spectrum?

This is a big problem for guys with Aspergers, because it’s very, very unlikely that we would ever make the first move, and that’s where the problems begin. Shy and introverted, we aren’t the conversation starters, and thanks to our rigid nature and propensity, fall off topic, and miss the big picture, we’re actually terrible conversationalists. Furthermore, while it’s not hard for us to find people that we like…

…it is hard to express it.

When there’s a girl I like, I have a very hard time. First, I have to reconcile my growing anxiety with the desire to know the girl. That’s the first hurdle many of us (including myself) have yet to overcome. I don’t feel like the potential to discover a relationship is worth the headache and internal trauma, nevermind the fact it might not work on anyway. Then, actually speaking to her. And no, I don’t mean stuttering because you’re nervous or blurting out bits of sentences. I’ve done this (probably) way too much, and it explains my current relationship status.

Finally, “normal” people like see actions and emotions that back up your claims, and as an Aspergian, I can say this is where I fall the hardest. I’m stone faced 98% of the time (the other 2% is when I’m laughing at Family Guy), I don’t make any gestures, and I don’t really talk about myself, so the girl never gets to know who she’s about to become friends with, which I’m sure pushes a lot of them away. I know I’m happy on the inside, but because I rarely show it (and not in ways people are accustom to), I seem unfriendly, and thus, no one wants to be friends.

Autism Awareness Month Post Eight: I’ve Got Troubled Thoughts, And A Self Esteem To Match

One of my favorite Fall Out Boy lyrics, “I’ve got troubled thoughts and a self esteem to match” matches perfectly with my inner dwellings as someone with Aspergers. I’ve always had issues with doubt, confidence, poise, and joy. I mean, it’s hard to believe in yourself when every time you go out you laugh at something serious, and then miss a simple joke. It’s hard to hold your head high when you’ve grown up with people laughing at you,  believing you’ll never amount to anything.

Eventually, you try to take some action, either good or bad. I thought about committing suicide, clearly the wrong choice, but I wouldn’t be the first, and sadly, I wouldn’t have been the last. There’s not enough aspergian voices out there. The lovely Marisa Ulrich, Beth at amileinmyshoes, and Laina at The Silent Wave are some of the greatest voices I’ve ever heard, but we need more. So for my eight post of Autism Awareness Month, I wrote a poem some of things I’ve had to fight internally as an aspergian.

 

I know I’m ugly

but I wake up everyday

I know I’m shy

but I give my all on Friday afternoons

I know by BMI is too high

but I sweat it out every night

in tears, in words

I pen the pain

in the sun, in the rain

to make this soul feel good again

if you could see inside this heart

you’d know, you’d know

if you could see inside this heart

you’d know the flow

of this autistic mood

and coming soon to screens near you

is an Aspergian

with a chip on his shoulder

the size of Boulder

Colorado

and hidden under shyness and fears

is a growing bravado

beyond my years

born and raised

by those who still don’t know

why sometimes I’m fast

and why sometimes I’m slow

why I can have thousands of followers

who’ve never seen my face

yet fail to make friends

whom I see face to face

why I can write poetry

that can bring a room to its feet

yet fail to notice her smile

and hands, ready to reach

why I go through all of this

I don’t know

so many have taken their lives to be free

that I know

yet here I am

day after day

trying to learn new tricks

and maybe make a friend, or two

one day

I’ll understand it all

but for now, I’ll keep writing

and pouring out this heart

and thanking all you commenters

who in this journey take a daily part

keep calling that girl,

despite the bad reception

and maybe build up

a long lasting connection

for now, I’ll keep living

for all those

too afraid to speak

the dark words that condemn

the profession

 

Autism Awareness Month Post Four: Things That Make Me Anxious

 

As an Aspergian, anxiety is easily my biggest problem. From sudden things like a last minute schedule change to watching your city burn thanks to mindless thugs that the media deem “peaceful rioters”. Even things that I do regularly can be a source of anxiety, like my weekly Teen Art Council meetings. How people perceive my aspergian tendencies, and how I try to blend in a world that seems to be always staring are thoughts I have all the time. In this month of “awareness”, I figured I’d talk about what makes me anxious. (If you’re on the spectrum, I’d like you to tell me what makes YOU anxious in the comments below.)

Last minute anything: Since I live extremely anxious, anything last minute is awful for me. It’s why I hate surprises, even good ones (like on your birthday). Schedule changes also make my head hurt, because I have to suddenly rework what I was going to do. I know, “sudden change is part of the real world”, but so is aspergers and the anxiety that comes with it.

Horror movies: I can’t watch movies with extreme blood and gore. Since I think the worst of any and everything and everybody, I used to have terrible dreams as a kid (and occasionally, nowadays) that someone would torture me and feed me to ghosts, just to reincarnate me and do it all over again. The fear was real…

New foods: I literally eat the same thing everyday, all the time. If you took me to a restaurant that I’d never been to before, I’d pick the closest thing to what I normally eat, and eat nothing else. My routines are rigid as hell (aspergers 101), and breaking them gives me headaches. My family always asks why I get the same thing when we eat out.

Scraping metal pans: Ever run a knife or fork across the bed of an iron pan or skillet? That sounds literally made me cry as a kid, and I could never figure out why. I’m super sensitive to sound, and that is my most hated sound. Just thinking about it makes my skin tingle.

New people: Regardless of whether they’re good or bad, any new person makes me anxious. Making a good impression, learning about them, figuring out who and what they are, wondering if (based upon age) if they’re interested in me…all of that is really, really hard on me. I’ve gotten better, because a few years earlier, I might have never even talked to people. I blew off a lot of people back then.

Phone calls: One of my secret fears, phone calls have always been hard on me. Even if I know the person, phone calls are always a struggle. Not knowing what they may or may not say, because I can’t tell by their body language. There’s this girl I’m (trying) to be friends with, and I call her every few days…a lot of times I won’t say anything because I get so anxious. And speaking of that…

Girls: I guess it’s because I have more in common with most guys than most girls. I can talk to any guy (for the most part), but put a girl in the room and I lose all sense of grip on the human language. I stutter a lot, and I stop speaking mid sentence (more often than not) because I get so anxious. I know it has to make me look stupid, but I can’t help it. And, Lord help me if I actually like the girl…that actually makes it worse. That’s why I stopped trying to make girl-friends, because the anxiety I’d feel at the time outweighed the potential benefits of having her as a friend. Maybe you’d consider that shortsighted, but if you were on this side, I bet my bottom dollar your opinion would change.

I guess that’s why I seem better on social media and on WordPress, because if face to face I really, really struggle talking with people. I normally just talk at them. You know, eye contact and all.

Heights: I’m afraid of them. Period.

Gatorade: If you laughed, it’s fine with me, because I think it’s crazy too. But I really hate this drink. I had it once I felt like throwing up, and of course, my brain associated this drink with bad feelings, so now I can’t stand the sight of them.

Friendships and marriage: This is probably why I’ll have neither. Friendships make me anxious because I don’t know how to even be friends with someone…I mean, care about someone’s thoughts and feelings, listen to them, and do things with them, but other than that I’m pretty clueless. And marriage? Ha ha ha I couldn’t imagine anyone even wanting to, and nevermind how stressful that would be. I wouldn’t even know the first place to start.

I hoped you enjoyed my list, and tomorrow (or Saturday), I’ll have a list of things that I love about being on the spectrum.