Thursday, December 12, 2013

What Day Is It?

Sometimes it is best to stay in the dark, pull the sheets over your head, and not pay attention to the world moving 700-900 miles an hour and that's if you are in the mid-latitudes. But you probably are, so don't worry about it getting to 1,000 mph.

How many seconds does it take you after waking up to realize your dream wasn't a reality? Does that very from person to person? Or do we all have a set number of seconds before we wake up and realize we are exactly where we were when we went to sleep. How many "w's" can I fit in one sentence?

All of this has a point, or at least I think it does. It's obvious I am trying to say that I let my self rest. I stayed in one place far too long. Now my feet are asleep and I don't move them because it feels like a thousand pricks. My back hurts from the way I am laying, because I've been in that position for too long. Do my eyes even open anymore? And it's obvious I'm not actually talking about sleep. I'm not even talking about laying down.

There is too much fear of not knowing what is going to happen the next day. It is better just to stay here.
No, no it is not better it is comfortable; even though it's painful.
I'm never really sure why I'm not moving.
You probably think with an issue like this I should know why I'm not moving. Well, I don't and I probably couldn't tell you if you spoke directly to my brain. You might have better luck asking my heart, but you will need that luck. My brain is trying to take me somewhere else, rationalizing every single detail. It is good to have a brain, better if it knows how to rationalize. It's sometimes just a pain to know why you need to open your eyes but you still can't.

Count to 1,000 and open them. Okay

Tuesday, May 28, 2013


I've never really known who I am. If there is one thing I do know about myself, that I have always known, is that I'm not a bad person. But I don't know if I'm a good person; I mean, I try. I know I don't intentionally do anything that isn't good. I can think I am whoever I want to be, but if that isn't who people think I am, it's not really who I am. I can say I never hurt people, but if someone is hurt by me, it completely wipes what I thought of myself.

Who I think I am, is directly related to how people think of me. It makes it harder that I never know what people think anyways. I'm always changing to be whoever everyone wants me to be. It sounds like a bad personality trait, but I do it because I know with my Aspergers, what I think isn't always what it actually is. I have a different perception than most people. So when I go to say something I don't think is rude, well most likely, it is.

My mind is constantly tossing around ideas; am I really good at my job, does that person actually like me, does my family think I'm crazy, am I a selfish person, am I a terrible friend, am I a good mother to my dogs, am I a good sister, am I functional enough to have a relationship, am I functional enough to have my job. All day every day, I compensate for the space between who I think I am, and who others think I am.  I'm running around trying to figure out what part of me I need to fix today. Working so hard trying to be everything I'm not, but what I want to be. Trying to be the person I would be without this disability. Feeling guilty every time I fall short.

I don't want to be the person everyone is just like, "that's okay she's just like that, she has Aspergers." I really don't think any one in my life actually gives me that luxury anyways. I say luxury, because it means who ever you are is okay to be. You'd be content, no one pushing you to be something you are not, everyone accepting of who you are. Most people tell me my Aspergers is an excuse. Maybe it is.

All I know is the wires to being a normal functioning person will never be connected. As long as they stay that way, knowing who I am is also a lost connection.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

New Balance

I'm a runner. I always have been. The gun goes off and I take to speed like I've never felt the wind before. But I don't mean like, putting two hundred dollar reebocks on so I can go run miles in the track at my country club. I run away like you run away from the creepy girl who wants to show you her pet bacteria; running up to you with her little petri dish full of pathogenetic microorganisms that live in stale water. The water probably contains Amoebiasis, and you don't have to let her get too close to tell.

If I ever felt like I didn't need to run, it was probably because things have been the same...for a very long time. Comfort has started to sneak it's way into life. You can hear the peace of the water, calm, silent. You find dust on your shelves, you don't have to think about what key you are grabbing to get inside the house, you just know.

But then, "BBAMM". The gun goes of and you take what you have on your back and you don't have to know where you are going, you just go. Change seems to be the reason behind the guns going off. But you don't have any reason yourself, so what are you even saying. It's the botulism taking a run at you, so you run faster.

You run until you can't run anymore, until your ankles collapse, until your mouth is so dry you are trying to block out the burning in the back of your throat, until your glands run out of fluid to produce sweat. And you are finally safe, and alone. And your alone. No running, no changes, no girl chasing after you with her petri dish. You have won and out run them all. And you are alone

Thursday, February 14, 2013

In the sanity of yourself

Aspergers is a very lonely thing. Even if you have your family, or a friend, or a lover; you are always alone. Alone in your world, alone in your thoughts, alone in your feelings. My world has never seen or felt anyone else's world. And no one can come into mine.

Sometimes it's fine. Some days are okay. Some days leave the bottle empty. Sometimes days are good, sometimes I feel connected. Others I'm just empty, exhausted from the wars in my head. Too tired from feeling everything. Too tired of waiting. My brain stops working at overload. I'd rather be alone for ever than just waiting. So I stop, I stop finding things to wait for. Don't set timers when I cook, don't order delivery, don't call people and tell them to call me back. Stop calling people. Stop asking things. Don't assume anything.

Because even though I've given up, I'm still waiting. I can give up on you, but I can't give up on waiting. And when the waiting is finally over, I'm done with you.

I stay here in my hole, no matter what I told myself I would do. No matter how I wanted to get back at you.

Another glass of wine please.

It's hard enough. I already told you it was hard enough. I'll be here forever waiting for you if you keep me in your heart. Keep me just to get what I give you. I'll just continue to shake while you take take take. I'm not to good at forgiving, but I know I can't forget.

I can however, forget you.