The Autistic Experience

Wicked are the thorns and that which they give. Life’s essentials that tear the garments covering our naked bodies.

The body that has remained hidden and the scars that hide beneath my skin. A matter of seconds and the clothes are stripped, my skin porcelain and my soul luminescent. I have dwelled on this earth hiding away from my sins, painting myself a saint and remembering the wicked. But the truth is in between these spaces. I am torn and I am naked. My sins murky and my soul glowing. The battlefield of my mind has rested, and I have accepted. As much as the scars paint, the sins make the base, and the soul makes them visible.

As humans we are flawed and as much as we like to see ourselves in the light, the thorns in darkness remind us of our reality. We are sisters of the moon and in shadows we shine the brightest. My mental health has been gaslit and I have been ridiculed. But as I start this year without the sun’s light with my sister moon, I am complete and I feel no need to hide.

My experience has been the regrets, blessings, abuse, love, thorns and petals. The rose does not leave the petals and as much as we would like to pluck the rose and remove the thorns, roses will always carry thorns and these realities that our dreams carry will always make us whole. Without them we are deluded and saints on pedestals of godhood.