Autie love
Neurodivergence is not a condition
I spend too much time agonizing about.
I’m not going to get myself in the position
Of wondering if I should “sort myself out”.
It’s not as if I, by a simple decision,
Could somehow just dump all the pain of self-doubt.
Instead I’ll just own the word. Yup, I’m an autie,
If that’s what you call this strange brain that I’ve got.
And maybe this makes me seem terribly haughty,
Aloof, cold, or arrogant. Really, I’m not.
It’s just that I struggle to know when I’m naughty
Or find the right words when I’m put on the spot.
I’ll utter a statement, a simple assertion,
When socially I should just chuckle and wink.
The way people talk to me feels like coercion;
They want me to say more than just what I think.
So often I’ll play-act a different-me version,
While thinking inside: how far off can I slink?
…
But you’re a fellow autie, so
I feel myself when I’m with you.
You know the way I want to know
And do the world the way I do.
Your smile, when you just wave “hello”
Says “I know what you’re going through”.
You’re not annoyed by things I’ve said:
It’s just the way we auties roll.
And while I live inside my head,
Ignoring people, on the whole,
It doesn’t mean that I am dead
To feelings. Yes, I have a soul.
And so, noone should show surprise
Or feel misled, or duped, or conned,
That when I look into your eyes
It melts my heart. I’m not just “fond”,
It’s love: I can’t and won’t disguise
The magnetism of this bond.