It's 9:42 PM as I type this. Therefore, I'm nearly a week into 20, as of right now. The birthday itself felt uneventful, and was the least fulfilling one I've had yet. Maybe that's what adulthood is about: not caring. I don't like that prospect, but it's not ceasing to revert as far as I can tell. Unraveling like an egregiously long ancient scroll, off the table and across the room, the fact of the matter bounces at my feet and stops. I can't avoid it. A voice in my head intones that perhaps if you had made friends--real friends--you wouldn't feel so paper-thin. There's no point in throwing a pity party.
I did this to myself.
Admitting that helps in a sense. However, while I do know the cause, and I'm still not excusing myself, mind you--it was a little out of my hands--I get obsessive. All my school planners were filled with Adventure Time. Regular Show. Cartoons everywhere! When I'm caught on something, I'm really, really, caught. You'll have to forgive me for that and then talk to me in about 4 years when I've finally moved on from whatever's grabbed me. It's strange. I'm not normal and I know that.
If I could go back 10 years, I would tell myself the following, "People will reach out, talk to you, and two word answers will not cut it." An autistic, bullied ten-year-old doesn't know this though. And even if they did, they probably wouldn't listen. Let's be honest.
It's good to think positive but not in excess and that's what I'm trying to do now. I know my faults and my obstacles. The hurdles of an disabled 20-something are not equivalent to that of your average 20-something. So I'll have to work harder.
So, I'm twenty.
I did this to myself.
Admitting that helps in a sense. However, while I do know the cause, and I'm still not excusing myself, mind you--it was a little out of my hands--I get obsessive. All my school planners were filled with Adventure Time. Regular Show. Cartoons everywhere! When I'm caught on something, I'm really, really, caught. You'll have to forgive me for that and then talk to me in about 4 years when I've finally moved on from whatever's grabbed me. It's strange. I'm not normal and I know that.
If I could go back 10 years, I would tell myself the following, "People will reach out, talk to you, and two word answers will not cut it." An autistic, bullied ten-year-old doesn't know this though. And even if they did, they probably wouldn't listen. Let's be honest.
It's good to think positive but not in excess and that's what I'm trying to do now. I know my faults and my obstacles. The hurdles of an disabled 20-something are not equivalent to that of your average 20-something. So I'll have to work harder.
So, I'm twenty.
No comments:
Post a Comment