Tuesday 28 December 2010

A Poem About Being Autistic - for James who may understand, one day.



I originally wrote this in mirror writing, a skill at which I am now something of an expert. Reading it without holding the back of the page to the light, to get it the 'right' way round, makes for somewhat stilted reading but I think adds to the overall, monotone, impact.

----------------------------

I like clothes with pockets
so I can keep my things
all of them
all of my special things
in one place
so I know where they are.

You told me about the girl you met
and the story she told you
about the boy
who kicked over chairs.

He was autistic, you said.
When things got too much
for him at school,
he kicked over chairs.

He was LFA,
low functioning autistic.
I am HFA,
high functioning autistic.
What is the difference?
The difference between
HFA and LFA
is that LFA are more honest.
If things get too much
they scream
or kick over chairs
or hit someone
or run away.

HFA people are just better
at pretending.
We teach ourselves to smile
in all the right places
at all the right times
but we still don’t fit in and
inside we are screaming.

Oh, if you knew the rage,
if you knew the rage
that makes us
kick over chairs
or kick holes in walls,
you would be merciful.

I think LFAs are lucky.
they are no words, all action.
NO WORDS, ALL ACTION.
If they don’t like it,
they kick over chairs.

Being HFA,
or Asperger’s,
is like living life
on the red carpet
or the Hollywood walk of fame.
Everyone is looking at you,
or laughing
and saying things
you don’t understand
because you are different and
don’t know why and
inside you are screaming
and kicking over chairs
and killing people
or yourself
and running away.

Which is why
I like clothes with pockets
so I can keep my things
in one place,
my special things,
so I know where they are,
when I run away.