A must read. Soulful and heartbreaking… And so so true
If I grew up in a jungle, quite free and alone (I dream of this often), I don’t think I’d know that I’m autistic.
I’m certain I wouldn’t have a clue.
When I’m walking through a park, I don’t feel autistic.
When I’m curled up in my warm bed in the morning, reading a book and drinking a coffee, I don’t feel autistic.
The bird outside my window, who knows I’m watching it, doesn’t know i’m autistic. The beautiful leaves don’t know, or the trees, or stars, or dogs, or cars. My toaster doesn’t care a dot that I am autistic, and cooks my toast as equally for me, as it would for anyone.
I am good enough for most things (onions, lamps and chairs), as I am, and even if i’m crying.
But I have learnt one thing – that I have never been quite good enough for people
View original post 2,066 more words