History is littered with Injustice
You Are My Center, when I spin away…
Love songs, Romance in movies and books, they do not speak to me nor do I find any remnants of myself within their concepts and depictions.
Hugs and Kisses, The arguments and make-ups, a carnival of emotions both ironic and cryptic without ever coming to any kind of conclusion unless for some inexplicable reason you find that rare old couple; they fit like a glove, they live having developing their own tailored “coping mechanisms”
For everybody else I see a merry-go-round of hypocrisy and force-fed hope
Marriages and weddings with the same script but ever changing characters.
‘Blame it on my Aspergers,’ I think to myself.
And it’s alright.
That I don’t get it, that I do not care for the Wheel of Romance.
But it would be great if somebody could explain what it’s all about!
She, alive or dead, loves her kids.
She, dead or alive, wants to live.
I wonder; is hiding ones reaction unhealthy?
Allow me to elaborate;
I am versed in the skill of hiding my “fear” when around other people.
When a person scares me (unintentionally), my heart races, I almost jump out of my skin,
But the person wouldn’t know because on the outside I am as still as a mouse.
One becomes a master at masking their honest feelings when the world constantly crushes you, and you develop a mistrust, a deep suspicion (is anybody watching me, waiting to see me “being weird”)
On the other end of the scale I seem to scare everyone in my family because I walk (as my mother says) like a cat. (Not literally, I’m just really quiet, my foot steps light, my breathing calm)
I am incredibly conscious about the spaces I occupy, making sure I do not stand out, (a protection mechanism; because nobody bothers a ghost)
I rather enjoy my ninja status.
But I need to solve my anxiety problems (will I be less of a ninja when/if I do?)
So many decisions I make on what I wear and how I talk seem to be a muddle of aspergers and anxiety, so I don’t know where MY identity starts and where the effects of social ills have affected me begin.
Here’s to figuring that out.
P.S.: What are Lumbersexuals attracted to?
I am not crazy
I’m not crazy
I ain’t crazy
I am without insanity.
You don’t see how my fist’s all balled up and my teeth gritted and I have death in my eyes.