Hollywood and the media would have people believe that autistic people are “robots”.
(I know, right?)
But those of us in the know–and we’re a rapidly-expanding group–know better.
For the cheap seats, I’m capable of emotion. Some might say almost too capable. Emotions bowl me over with intensity. I freeze and act nonchalant, pausing just long enough to try to make sense of them.
Because that’s the real trick – not cultivating emotions, but sorting them out. Putting them in proverbial categories.
Heh, I wish.
I can’t usually get that far. I’m just lucky if I can express them in a recognizable way, a way that is socially acceptable.
Cue more inevitable social awkwardness. Cue the inevitable confusion.
Cue the inevitable inner torrents, as the different waves break and overlap each other, swirling into each other, taking turns overtaking each other.
Lots of “inevitable”s there.
People talk about mental pretzels…
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