The Autistic Experience

Who cares for the one-winged dove when it fails to fly and who gathers the food when it can no longer thrive?

And strikes the fear that I have long fought. Tis’ my reality and I am forced to confront her. Her claws clench my soul and tear the barriers I built. Am I alone? There are a lot of people that would care for my death but who cares for my life? I am wounded and as I sit alone in the darkness, humbled, my body breaks and my mind weakens. The withdrawal has started to kick in and depression slips through the cracks.

Hope is worse than heartbreak, it makes you believe again, and as you make yourself vulnerable you are reminded that darkness is silent and the path of the moon alone. It circles a beloved who cares not for it and its world revolves around the sun. The sun teases the moon lending her his light and mocks her for her solitude. The moon has nothing to hide and while the sun blinds those who dare look at him the moon shares her beauty and, in its dance, shows the cycle of love. A new crescent, a full love and darkness once again!

I know not how to feel in this solitude. I have spun myself in the chaos of this world. I have danced like my sister moon. I wait for a night when I no longer have to hide in darkness. When will my crescent be full and when will the dawning moon stop my gloom?