Alyssa is trying to organize this blasted bookshelf!
I have Asperger’s Syndrome, a type of high-functioning Autism. I wasn’t diagnosed until the age of thirteen, but always knew something was different. In my early years of school, I had few friends, but the ones I did have were loyal, trust-worthy, and respected me without question.
As third grade came along, it seemed like everyone else was changing, but I stayed the same. I am still told that I was a quick learner, mature beyond my age, and least like my peers in many ways. Still, it hurts me to think that people were freaked out by me.
I started to speak at around a year old, walk at eight months, and read at three years old. It’s possible, and anyone that says I’m lying is a fool, because it’s true. I hardly caused trouble around the house, and never killed any small animals, so I was innocent.
Yes, my .I.Q. is only at 102 points, but I am keeping my grades up a lot better than my peers. Straight ‘A’ students are hard to find in my classes nowadays, but as long as drugs and alcohol stay out of our way, we will keep up the pace. I’m a teenager now, but I never use illegeal substances, drink, smoke, or have sex, so I think I’ll be okay.
Eye contact, touching, panic attacks, and speaking out loud are still a problem. Hopefully, my peers will try to understand one day. I can’t stress it enough that teachers must be aware of us with Autism, but my own Interior Design instructor wasn’t even aware of the way rooms are best set up for us with Autism until a guest speaker came to visit our class.
My teachers all comment on how mature, resourceful, and helpful I am, but I hate it when they say it. I’m not, but I want to be so badly, and sometimes it hurts, but as much as I want to cry about it sometimes, I still can’t do it. My body won’t allow it, and that makes it worse.
If there is someone I adore, I dare not tell them, for I believe that there is always something better for them, so I try to keep my distance. If I hear that someone adores me too, it frightens me.
How can I live up to their expectations if I can’t live up to my own? How can the lamb love the wolf? If I fail, does it mean that they planned it to do so? Is it trickery, or honesty? I pledge my love to them, no matter what, but how will I know that it’s a mutual feeling that is felt?