Every long road or emotional rollercoaster begs for a corny wrap up. Even if measured in miles or years, smiles or fears, and by no means is this a Shakespearean endeavor, every now and then during such a journey there's no harm in peeking on the agenda of our first world tormented hearts. And today, while loving windmills and being weird ‘cause I hate goodbyes, what harm in x-raying the intricate curricula of my own little black autistic heart. I'm naming it so, and by no means shall I apologize, not after what it's making me go through. While I'm a strong believer in the supremacy mind over heart, and I'm seriously striving to force my feet on the ground so as to not become a complete model of silliness, there's times when the wise brain girl falls short, suppressed by the stupid heart girl. Those times, despite of my easiness to speak my mind, which is apparent, my heart is just a dreamy version of a stammered dork, which refuses to be spoken out. By now I've learnt exactly how this goes, I know what moodiness to expect and just how long it takes my brain to turn on its self defense facilities and kick the little bitch's arse. But those of you who both matter and are around to witness the transitory frustrations, superficiality, coarseness, bipolarity or obnoxious silence, would you be so kind as to grant me the temporary insanity clause, based on my brazen heart's starlet appearance. Like, those times when I choose to have one too many or one too little emotions, to be oversensitive or insensitive right at the wrong moment. Or, when I refuse to talk about important stuff but pour instead a huge pile of trivia in what I find to be an empty conversation slot. Or when I get too upset and decide to run and hide, I swear it is just to come back lighter and giving more. How about when I say too much of the things you don't feel comfortable hearing, just for my own twisted momentary amusement. Or when it's impossible for me to bluntly say "I'm sorry" or "I love you", when I emote those a little bit too much even for my brain to cope. So bear with me, if I go crazy for a slight moment, get bitter on your watch, or give you the salad or nail polish talk. It doesn't mean I love you less; it's just my being uneasy with my autistic heart.
Saturday, 3 March 2012
To you,courtesy of my autistic heart
Every long road or emotional rollercoaster begs for a corny wrap up. Even if measured in miles or years, smiles or fears, and by no means is this a Shakespearean endeavor, every now and then during such a journey there's no harm in peeking on the agenda of our first world tormented hearts. And today, while loving windmills and being weird ‘cause I hate goodbyes, what harm in x-raying the intricate curricula of my own little black autistic heart. I'm naming it so, and by no means shall I apologize, not after what it's making me go through. While I'm a strong believer in the supremacy mind over heart, and I'm seriously striving to force my feet on the ground so as to not become a complete model of silliness, there's times when the wise brain girl falls short, suppressed by the stupid heart girl. Those times, despite of my easiness to speak my mind, which is apparent, my heart is just a dreamy version of a stammered dork, which refuses to be spoken out. By now I've learnt exactly how this goes, I know what moodiness to expect and just how long it takes my brain to turn on its self defense facilities and kick the little bitch's arse. But those of you who both matter and are around to witness the transitory frustrations, superficiality, coarseness, bipolarity or obnoxious silence, would you be so kind as to grant me the temporary insanity clause, based on my brazen heart's starlet appearance. Like, those times when I choose to have one too many or one too little emotions, to be oversensitive or insensitive right at the wrong moment. Or, when I refuse to talk about important stuff but pour instead a huge pile of trivia in what I find to be an empty conversation slot. Or when I get too upset and decide to run and hide, I swear it is just to come back lighter and giving more. How about when I say too much of the things you don't feel comfortable hearing, just for my own twisted momentary amusement. Or when it's impossible for me to bluntly say "I'm sorry" or "I love you", when I emote those a little bit too much even for my brain to cope. So bear with me, if I go crazy for a slight moment, get bitter on your watch, or give you the salad or nail polish talk. It doesn't mean I love you less; it's just my being uneasy with my autistic heart.
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