Despite my (mostly) pure intentions, I sometimes come off the wrong way with people. Most of the time, it’s on purpose, but the other times, it’s just my social cue issues.
My therapist asked me a few weeks ago why I tell people I have Asperger’s Syndrome. I replied that I didn’t know. To be honest, I still don’t have a clear answer, but I can boil it down to a few things;
Firstly, I think it’s because my father used to introduce me with it ALL THE TIME. It’s like a handicap before I even meet someone. For example, imagine that a friend of yours told someone they were about to introduce you to that you were retarded. Imagine what fun you would have trying to prove otherwise. It was psychologically implanted in my brain from a young age, and it has been very difficult to remove it.
Secondly, Usually if I myself tell someone, it’s because I feel comfortable enough to do so. Most people’s reactions to the fact I have Asperger’s is quite positive as most don’t even know what it is, and they really can’t tell I have anything wrong with me. I suppose it’s trying to prove that I am not a label, that I am not controlled by my learning disability. It took me many, many years of hard work, therapy, soul-searching, and understanding to come to my current state. If you had met me 4 years ago, you would be meeting someone entirely different.
Finally, I believe I do it out of trying to prove myself. I don’t ever like using it as an excuse EVER. It’s a pathetic one as well. In a way, I am trying to prove I am different from my father, but not only that, that I am strong enough to handle whatever comes my way. My Asperger’s is just a fragment of my life when it all comes down to it. I’ve lived with the knowledge for near 10 years, and it’s made me realize that life is not so black and white.
When it comes down to it, I have my moments, but so does everyone else. A label is just a label, and if you just embrace yourself and understand yourself, you will discover what lies beneath the surface is more important than trying to categorize yourself. Granted, it took me a very long time to understand this, and of course I have my regrets about things, but at the end of the day, pushing forward is all we can do.
I am feeling down on myself for the first time in a while, and I know what’s causing it.
I am lonely.
Even in this great position I’m in, all the successes I’ve had, all the people I’ve helped… I still feel like something is missing from my life. I KNOW something’s missing from my life.
I try to hang out with friends as much as possible, but this doesn’t work to meet my own ends.
I desire companionship, love, interest, and physical romance, the kind where I will just do what the other person wants without a thought for myself.
For a man, normally what they look for is sex, and undoubtedly, I am, but I want more. You could fling beautiful women my way, but if they don’t have that certain spark, it’s a waste of time.
Recently, a friend from years past deleted me from Facebook because of something I did. Though I accepted this, she took major offense. I hadn’t talked to her in years, but at one time, she was my best friend, and I was in love with her.
I had told her prior that I was, and I didn’t find out until later that she felt the same way for me. Until yesterday, I still did have some slight feelings for her. Sure, she had been out of my life for some time, but we grew up together, and we used to drive around all day looking for things to do. Those were fun and jaded times. Drugs got in the way.
Now, years later, I feel sad about my missed opportunities, but I realize that it was not meant to be. That being said, it still stings. We went our separate ways, and we have become two different people in a sea of billions.
I thought I could save her from her fate, but I failed, not because I didn’t try, but because it was too far gone. There was nothing left for me to do, and it lead to the worst night of my life.
Though I wished for it not to end this way, I cannot help but feel a sense of closure. That chapter of my life is now over, and what lies ahead is the future, my future.
I guess if I keep working hard, and do what I do, love will find me.
I was playing Tetris Splash a little while ago, and something occurred to me;
This is the first time I’ve had time to reflect on my position for almost 2 years. I was pissed at my Dad, pissed at my Mom, pissed that the world had handed me a bag of shit. And now, I sit here, reminiscing about how amazing it feels to be out of this cycle of negativity.
I sense a behavioral shift in me. I was thinking about some of the things I’ve done, the things I’ve said, how I’ve been wrong, and how I’ve acted like a pretentious asshole, and a complete all around nut. I’m a pothead, a loner, and I don’t like calling people on the phone. I spend most of my days sitting around watching television while I fry my brain.
Maybe it was some personal vengeance within me, making me feel that I had to rebel on a constant basis in order to survive. But now I sit in my apartment, writing this to you, and I am shaken to the core.
I always half-play Tetris. I go on auto-pilot, and I talk to my subconscious. I think about myself, I think about where I’m going, and where I’m at. I think about the past, and what I can do to not make the same mistakes twice. I think about the things I’ve said to people that I genuinely regret, the people I’ve let down, the people that I let slip from my grasp, and the ones who are now my enemies. It is my time for reflection, my meditation.
I think that because of this game, I have discovered more about myself than if I didn’t play it. It’s like flipping a switch, a doorway to the psyche. It’s not that I love the game, but because it has to do with spacial reasoning, I believe my mind assimilates this as a sort of decompression and condensing of thoughts. Like going through your computer and organizing your folders.
This is what I was taught when I was younger, but not in this way.
I was lied to for many years. Told I was not truly worth a shit in this world, by outsiders, by my family, and even by myself. But I strived for more. And I have achieved it.
Thinking back is always something I have always done, because, at times, the past is all we have. When times are bad, we think of how great we felt during those happy times, and we don’t give up hope that things can be like that, or come close that in our present.
But I am happy in this place.
For the first time in YEARS, I get to see people I like on a regular basis, get to enjoy my vices and habits, but also get to enjoy a greater sense of comradery. For the first time, I feel like I fit in, that I can be a leader, that I can follow my dreams, and not be held back by my anxieties and past failures. I am not to blame, so I won’t take it.
It feels good.
I was visited by a creature, a spirit the other night. Most that know me personally know that I have been thinking about this for some time. I believe it was a vision.
I had had a few beers on Friday night to relax and unwind after last week, which was the most stressful I’ve had so far, but also one of the best. I decided to go to sleep around 1 or 2 am. In a haze, I felt as if I was still awake in the room, without feeling awake. A Blackbird, A Crow, flew in through my sliding glass window (which was closed), was happily squawking, flew up and landed on my chest. It was intensely vivid.
I have had dreams like this before. Lucid dreaming, much like Inception. I had one a while back that I told to my dear friend and almost broke down. These are powerful emotions.
I wrote about this on my Facebook a few nights ago, and was greeted with sarcasm from another friend about my certain habits involving cannabis. Another suggested Poe. My mother said it was a Mahakala, a protector from Tibetan Buddhism, a guardian of sorts. Another said it was my spirit animal. I looked up a ton of material regarding this, and a lot of it had to do with change, and death, in both a negative and positive sense. One theory from ancient times suggested that if a young man, like myself, saw a Blackbird or Crow, it meant a young woman would appear in his life.
Crows are seen as scavengers, tricksters. They are usually an omen of evil, or foreboding something. In my case, I feel that he is sign of change, and ultimately a positive deity paying me a visit, to help my good fortune. He is lucky. I did not feel like he was an evil presence. He also seemed very content with me overall.
I still don’t know what it means, and hell, I probably never will, but I know that he was a sign of things to come. Whether they be good or bad is yet to truly be witnessed, but more change is coming, and I will be prepared for it, just like I always am.
Before I get to the good stuff, a little back story:
I originally wrote this in the Spring of 06’, and it was my last short story I ever wrote for my teacher. It took me 2 hours to write this, and I was surprised about the result.
My teacher gave me an A+, and said it was the best short story by a student he’d ever read, and I was ultimately praised as his protege in his class. I was only 3 kids to get an A in his class that year, so needless to say, I love writing.
For a time, I lost the want to write, slipped into jaded chaos, and lost the original copy of the story.
After coming out of this lost period, I returned to writing, started writing on twitter, blogged, and blogged some more.
It’s about 2 years now since I’ve been a regular and active member of the online community in some respect. I have a reasonable following, have written some amazing material, experimented, and yet, I long to try and truly and better this once-thought-lost ability.
I realize that I have to respect the past in order to become a better writer in the future, and in doing so, I must share some of my past with you, my community, my friends, and loved ones.
Recently, my Mom asked me to try and find this piece. Ironically enough, it was on my thumb drive, though without a cover page. The original piece of paper is long since missing or gone, tucked away in some forgotten corner with my 1st Place Blue Ribbon Indio Fair paintings I did in 1st & 2nd grade, maybe even along with some of even earlier material.
Of this, I am not sure.
So I proudly present to you, Bobby And The Five-Dollar Bill;
It was the summer of 1947, and Bobby Thomas had just finished painting the fence around his house. Twice a year for the last 3 years, he had had to paint the fence with a new coat to make it look brand new again. He lived in a small house in the middle of Maine, in a small town far away from the city. There were only a few places to shop in town; Willy Johnson’s General Store, a gas station, Edna’s clothing store, and Frank’s Mechanic Shop. Bobby had lived here all of his life, and he loved every minute of it.
Bobby was a young boy of about seven. He had red hair and freckles, and he was pretty skinny. He usually wore a striped shirt with khaki pants and worn out sneakers. He lived in the suburbs with his mother and father, and had a Labrador named Lucky. He was kind of your normal, average young man, but today was different. His whole life as he knew it was about to change forever.
Once Bobby had stopped painting the fence, he went inside, where his mom was waiting with a pitcher of lemonade. She was a tall woman with blue eyes and blonde hair. She was wearing a flowered dress and a matching apron cleaning the dishes in the sink.
“Did you finish painting the fence, Bobby?”
“Yes, mama, I’ll put the paint in the garage in a minute.”
Bobby served himself a glass of lemonade, and his mom gave him a turkey sandwich with no crust. Bobby was a fast eater, so he finished the sandwich in about one minute flat. He thanked his mother, and started to run outside.
“Bobby, would you come here a moment?”
Bobby’s father had called from the other room, and Bobby immediately went there. His father was a large, muscular man, with a small scar on his hand from serving in the Afrika Corps near Egypt. He had a very nice manner about him, and he was a very kind and loving man. Bobby walked toward him.
“Did you finish all of your chores?”
“Did you feed Lucky too?”
His father dug into his pants pocket and took out a wallet. He pulled out a single quarter.
“Young man, this is your allowance for this week.”
“Thank you so much, Papa!”
He gave his father a big hug and ran out. His father’s last words as he ran out the door were ‘save some of it!’
As Bobby ran out the door, he passed by a gutter. He stopped running and looked down at the ground. There was something under the leaves near the concrete. He moved the leaves and couldn’t believe his eyes. There under all of this was a singular five-dollar bill. Bobby nearly had a heart attack when he saw this. It was the biggest amount of money he had seen in his entire life.
He proceeded to pick up to check if it was truly the real thing. He wiped it off with his hand and looked again. It was definitely a five-dollar bill. Bobby stared at it for a few moments as he held it in his hand, and then he started walking away.
Bobby started to think ‘did someone drop this?’ and ‘what should I do with it?’ Bobby kept walking towards town with the money in his hand. As he got closer to town, he heard a voice call to him.
It was Jimmy Hertzman. He was a mischievous, mean, and spoiled child. He lived in one of the biggest houses in the town. He was short, had dirty blonde hair, and wore a collared shirt and a pair of shorts.
Bobby tried not to look at him; Jimmy would only get him into trouble. Jimmy ran toward him and grabbed the money out of his hand.
“What’s this Bobby? Huh? What’s this?” said Jimmy erratically.
He snatched it back from Jimmy’s hands.
“It’s nothing, Jimmy.”
“I’m not sure it’s nothing.” Jimmy said with some poutiness in his voice.
Bobby started to walk again with the money in his hand, trying to get as far away from him as possible. Suddenly, Jimmy darted beside him, grabbed the money out of his hand, and started running down the street screaming, “I got it! I got it!”
Bobby went into a rage. He was so angry; his eyes were completely blood red. He started to run, but he would have to go faster or else he wouldn’t catch up with Jimmy. Bobby ran so fast after him, time seemed to slow down as he got closer. Bobby finally got close enough to him to grab it. But he couldn’t take it anymore, and he lost it. Bobby tackled Jimmy with a great force and they rolled for a few seconds and stopped.
After a minute or so of no one moving, Bobby started to get up. His nose was bloody, his shirt was covered in mud, and his arm was cut. He brushed himself off and stood up. He started to shake Jimmy to rouse him up.
“Jimmy,” he said, pushing him some more. “Jimmy.”
There was no answer.
“JIMMY!” Bobby shouted at him, “CAN YOU HEAR ME?”
There still was no answer.
Jimmy was lying face down with one of his arms out in front of him, and one of his legs to the side of him. Bobby tried to roll him over. It took one or two tries, but eventually, Bobby got him to roll over. Just by looking at his face, Bobby knew the horrible truth. Jimmy was dead.
Bobby stared at Jimmy’s lifeless body for a minute or so, looking over the damage. He had a very large cut on his head, a broken nose, two of his teeth were broken, and his lips were cut open badly. Bobby kept looking at the corpse with a fright. He thought, ‘what drove me to do such a thing?’ Then suddenly, an eerie voice started to talk to him.
“I did, Bobby.”
He turned around. There was nothing there.
He turned back to Jimmy and the five-dollar bill was on his chest. He grabbed it and stared closely.
“BOO!” The five-dollar bill flew out of his hand and started to hover in front of his face.
“W-What are you?” Bobby said, trembling.
“Don’t you know? I am the five-dollar bill, I am the reason that you attacked this poor, poor young man.” He said, putting a bit sarcasm on the poor part.
Bobby realized that the five-dollar bill was right. He had tried to walk away from Jimmy to not get in trouble, but Jimmy tried to see what he had in his hand. Jimmy wouldn’t stop bugging him, and he took his money, ran away from him, and Bobby caught up and tackled him, killing Jimmy in the process.
“Do you not see the fault of your ways, Bobby?”
“This is your doing, and you must take responsibility for what you have done, what will you do?”
Bobby had not thought of this yet. He killed Jimmy, and no one else was responsible. There were no witnesses, and not one police officer. The only one was the five-dollar bill, which he thought was only a figment of his imagination. Bobby started to scream. He was scared, scared of everything. Every house, every tree, every sidewalk, every single thing on the entire street had seen him. The walls had eyes, the trees had ears, and the wind whispered.
The five-dollar bill shaped itself into a smile and started to laugh. It started to fly away in the wind. Bobby tried to catch it, but he was too late. It was gone. He ran away before anyone could see him near the area, and see him near the body itself.
Five miles away, in a forest where no one lived or went, two strange figures stepped out of a silver metal saucer.
“Do you understand now?” said a voice, seemingly familiar to the voice of the five-dollar bill. “Humans cannot comprehend their actions.”
“I can see that conclusion,” said the other voice, showing no emotion. “They do not understand their faults, they commit crimes, even murder, over insignificant matter such as money. These humans are full of greed. Even wars are started over greed. This little boy killed another little boy over greed, and he proceeded to run away from the problem instead of admitting he did it. Let us hope this does not continue to happen as time goes on in this seemingly simian race.” The two figures got into the ship and flew off into the sky, not be seen again in some uncertain time.