Autistic

You are not a definition.
You are not your disease.
You cannot be defined by one syndrome,
But that may be how it seems.
I sat there when I heard this,
Researched with
Wikipedia my sole source.
As I read and discovered, I thought,
This is him. YOU.
I did not think,
That explains a few behaviors.
I classified you, as that.
You may be autistic,
But I love you dearly.
And just because some odd behavior has a name,
Doesn’t mean I define you by it.

Desperation

i cry,
because that's what you do, right?
when you're hopeless...
because nothing is going your way.

i stay quiet,
because voicing your anguish is hard,
when you don't want to bother anyone...
because who really cares, how do you know?

i stay on the outside,
because engaging in conversation hurts,
when you know that people will ask if you're okay,
because they want to show genuine concern.

i close up and keep my head down,
i have my smiling face sad and gone.
i just wait, hoping it'll go away.
i hate that feeling, when nothing is right.

The Highway

I continue down the busy street,
hands clenched, on ten and two,
foot slightly alternating between the gas and brakes.
green...
yellow...
red....
flash up ahead of me.
turning the wheel, i knock the signal indicator,
my feet pressing down,
as i slow, then stop.
left turn only...
and i turn.
Acutely aware of my surroundings,
headlights illuminating my face, my mother's.
and reflected in the mirrors.
an eye catching light show,
especially if i squint.
but i couldn't...
under the bridge, ramp on right,
right signal indicator...
and the engine revs.
eyes open, merge, speed, trucks flying by.
the highway for my first time.
i could go anywhere!
but i get off the next exit...
a sigh of relief, a wide smile.
I feel Infinite.

"Work With A Smile"

Work with a smile,
says my father, as i weed through the entangled garden-made-forest...
work with a positive attitude so you'll be rewarded.

as i groan and complain,
sweat developing on my brow,
i carelessly ignore him,
treking through the wild, the unknown.

but standing on stage,
with lights brightly lit,
in the back of the line,
youll see these pearly whites shine.

and if you ask me?
why i will smile,
well, im setting an example,
i'm working hard,
and i always show my respect,
by showing those pearly whites...
even when id rather cry.

Blue Plastic Cup

the cool plastic feels smooth im my hand,
as the words are skimmed over once more.
the daily affirmation i always needed,
lied under the thin dust collected,
on the blue plastic cup.

the cup had little value to my family,
little value to a school, college application, and even to most people.
but the little cup told me what i always needed to hear...
someone is thankful for me.

that little plastic cup didnt say,
"hey you're well liked... or you're so great!"
but that little plastic cup said,
we love you. we see you. we appreciate all those little things...
smiling on stage, using your best effort... its seen. and its there.

when that little plastic cup... cool to the touch,
slowly dropped to the side of my bed,
i hadnt realized that my award could be considered trash.
my first real concrete recognition,
was a blue plastic party cup.

and the fact that no one cared about my poor cup in the trash,
made me realize how maybe,
what i've been pursuing,
isnt truly being supported...

writing isn't for publishing,
it isnt to change the world.
its to change perspective,
and maybe, its to be heard.

its to say what ive been thinking,
open up what i never knew,
acknowlegde the unexplored,
its the closure i always need,
when hitting "publish post"
the end.

i cant understand,
what goes through your mind...
when you accept a role,
but disrespect to no end.

i dont believe,
that you would have such an attitude,
when all that is needed,
is a little complying.

i never understood,
how someone could ruin a show.
not follow the rules,
and be sour the whole time.

please, will you explain,
all that you think.
explain what has happened.
which made you accept a role in a show you now hate.

"I had seen something, but everyone in my life acted like that never happened."

When you listen to me,
Do you hear what I say?
Do you remember,
or is it shut down, blocked away.
I am just crazy,
Am I insane?
Or am I the worst,
At hiding the shame.

Is it that easy, for you to forget?
Do you feel better unconfronted,
or are you torn, like I thought.
Would it be easier, if this all went away?
Because with these problems all attacking me,
I cant seem to get away...

Happiness isn't for all,
And love is not always rewarded.
As I gain new things I adore,
Somtimes,
I lose the old things no longer needed.
Religion doesn't grasp everybody,
Some people feel betrayed.
Some don't understand it,
And some find it unrealistic and plain.

I have met some incredible people,
and even if the atheists were correct,
Sometimes it's more than just Him above,
But the people He has helped me meet.

I have been alive for 6,042 days.
In this I have grown,
learned,
walked and talked.

I have made friends,
Gained passions,
and met some of the best people in the world.

I have been alive for 144,996 hours.
In this I have watched TV,
Had classes, and slept in my bed.
I have had sleepovers, and been lazy,
and Driven for 19 so far!

I have been alive for 8,699,818 Minutes.
And let me tell you,
It has gone by slow.
When I've watched each tick of that longer clock's hand,
I could see it, pulse, as if it's the heartbeat of our world.

I have been alive for 521,989,196 Seconds.
And I promise, it's even more now.
I can hear the tick tock of some nearby clock,
and for as many seconds as there may be,
I haven't appreciated them enough.
When something goes by so fast,
you forget to be thankful for it.

I have been alive for
197 Months,
863 Weeks,
6,042 Days,
144,996 Hours,
8,699,762 Minutes,
521,985,801 Seconds, and
521,985,826,246 Milliseconds.

It's crazy, and it has gone by too fast.
But here I am,
And I'll try to make each minute last.

I think I can
I think I can
I think I can
That’s all that’s running through my mind
I hope I will survive this mess called life,
Because right now, I love it dearly,
Life is beautiful, life has pain… but by appreciating it all. You’re always alive.
You know because you live through the darkest moments,
And you thrive during the bliss of a day, an hour, or a year.
And you thrive during the bliss of a day, an hour, or a year.

You know because you live through the darkest moments.
Life is beautiful, life has pain… but by appreciating it all. You’re always alive.
Because right now I love it dearly,
I hope I will survive this mess called life.
That’s all that’s running through my mind
I think I can
I think I can
I think I can

I was
scared when I was younger.
Of things I couldnt even realize.
Whether it be the funny looking stranger,
or the terrors of the middle of the night.
When I was younger, I worried about being forgotten,
That I'd have no friends, or that I was the girl no one liked in the end.
I was nervous, and excited, loquatious and caring.

But then again... you could say that I still am.

Writers Block

That awful frustration
where you know deep down,
that you have something to say,
to shoo away that frown.
To have it all down on paper,
ridding yourself of that anger,
is getting rid of a water's dam,
letting it flow and eb,
explore and learn.
If you ever need to know
what you should do when you have writers block.
talk... think... explore.
Because the water has seen everything,
its knowledgeable beyond words.
and I never would've realized this,
if my mind didnt take that pause.

"Are some people better than others?"

It was at school, in the dimly lit cafeteria long after the final school bells had rung for that day. In a circle sat about 10 friends, all giggly girls, conversing at a speed that only they can manage. They sat there, not wanting to end such a great day by dealing with parents, siblings, chores and other responsibilities. Nope, they sat there, conversing, laughing, and enjoying the new freedoms teenage years bring.

Questions spat out with little time to respond, and they were mostly frivolous. One girl, a strong very curious blonde named Diana started the hypothetical questions; the “what ifs” and the “how abouts”. The only one any of us can remember was when she asked Meghan, the small, sometimes quiet girl with a heart that embraced all. She turned to Meg, a new but still close friend, and asked, "If you were in a room, with 6 people you strongly disliked, the people that hurt you so bad, and the SECOND someone was killed, you could all get out, who would you kill?"

And Meghan just sat there for a second, and looked at that girl, knowing she expected to say a disliked teacher, annoying sibling, or an ex best friend. But Meghan watched her slowly as she said, "I would kill myself. Because I would never be able to live with the responsibility of taking away someone else's life. I am not God; I won't be a bystander that watches someone die." And in that second, this group of thirteen year old girls fell silent. That was when we realized how easily life gets out of hand.

"Every event turns into a Joseph reunion..."

It was a Saturday night, at the Rooney's house on the water in Stratford. The air was warmed, the breeze gentle, and the old blue Victorian house stood tall, proud and welcoming, much like the family inside. The brown fence in appearance was strong, but as teenagers hopped the fence, it proved otherwise. It held many teenagers, adults and children in the confinements of the green grass, tall trees and the volleyball net. This was Quinn's graduation party, holding close friends and family to laugh, play, eat and talk.

Brigitta and I walked into the yard as we located close friends, better known as our "Joseph" friends, within the loquacious crowd. Once they were spotted by the stereo, we made a beeline towards them, avoiding small children and miscellaneous bags along the way. As more friends came, strangers left, and the crowd started to trickle towards cars, soon there were only eight of us, all laughing and talking like always.

There are not many people I feel 100% comfortable with. There are some people I'm scared to offend, some I'm scared will judge me, and others I'm scared will understand me more than I do myself. But sitting outside with these boys, these girls. I understand what comfort is. I can go up to any of the guys, any of the girls, and understand that yeah, there is judgment. But there is also so much understanding, caring and just the upspoken thing. The Joseph kids always have your back, the will help you when they can, and they are ALL compassionate caring people, who sometimes make a mistake or two like the rest of us. When you have friends who all care about eachother, and understand that... you have a peace like no other.

At 12:30am we left Quinn's house with laughter, hugs, and promises to see eachother before the new year of school. As many friends leave me for college, I know, as do they, life doesn't get better than this. Hold onto what you need, can, and love, while embracing the future and the new passions you'll attain.