Hey. Try not to panic. It’s you from the future, and
I’m writing to say don’t worry. Everything
that’s getting to you at the moment will make sense in the end.
Like the times you wait by the fence watching the other kids play
wondering when they’ll ask you to join in, and what you’ll do if it happens.
How you’re confused at the ease they interact, talking freely,
while you stand their silently, their shouts and screams of joy
overloading your ears – until the whistle blows and hits you like ice up your spine,
locking you into rigid limbs and wriggling insides. The hold authority has.
And those times you’re unsure what Miss is asking of you, fretting about if you’re doing your work right
because she didn’t go through it fully first. So you wait
and watch the other kids, trying to guess their thinking as they set straight to it
and hoping you can catch a glimpse of their work so you can copy.
Then there’s the time you have to go to the dentist during rehearsals for the school play. Should you put your hand up? Should you just stand?
You ask around in whispers, and everyone says put your hand up. You do, but the teachers don’t see, so then you do stand.
And get told off for not telling them to put you on the end of the row, even though your form tutor read the note at registration.
How about all those times the kids take advantage of your attempts to join in? Sharing
your cat’s cradle only for them to run off with it and claim to the others that it’s theirs,
or when a girl steals your toy and tells the dinner lady you stole it from her
and you can’t speak up properly so give in and let them keep it?
When they’re supposed to share textbooks
and drag them away so you can’t see?
Let’s not forget how you can’t co-ordinate your body in P.E,
or have so much trouble learning in class that you take your work home.
When you have your nose in a book at the doctor’s because you can’t deal with what is going on, and get called rude for not paying attention.
Then there’s your many attempts to get the timing right on Mario’s jump and fail at every try.
When you tell a stranger about how bad mum’s morning breath is
and don’t understand why she’s embarrassed. It’s fact, isn’t it?
Why you can’t understand why people play with dolls when you can just make up characters in your head.
Like I said. It’s all fine. There’s a reason for it, a simple explanation:
A condition meaning
your brain is wired slightly differently to most people. You notice
things they never will while missing the unspoken signs
they give each other all the time.
It doesn’t mean you’re strange, weird, stupid or a freak.
It means you’re you,
and though you haven’t met them yet, there are others out there
who are wired in the same way
and know just how this feels.
So remember, you’re not alone. If you explain
your difficulties (and your strengths)
then eventually the world will start to understand.
P.S. In the meantime, try sunglasses and earmuffs — all year round.
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