Although I don’t display many of the “common” characteristics of autism, I know precisely what the author of the following piece experiences.
You don’t know me.
You see me sit, rocking.
You hear me talk to myself,
Repeating phrases from the TV.
You watch my hands as they flap
And touch. Seemingly random,
My patterns escape your notice.
You don’t know me.
You see me on the edges,
Quiet, listening but not speaking.
You hear my outbursts:
Violent eruptions of sound and motion.
You note my non-compliance
With black marks in your ledgers.
You don’t know me.
You try to change me,
Remake me in your own image.
You teach me that I am broken.
You punish me for being myself.
You make me fearful and anxious,
Afraid to break your rules.
You drive me deep inside myself.
You don’t know me.
You don’t empathize with me.
You don’t learn about me.
You don’t try to understand me.
You fear me, hurt me, hate me.
You don’t love me: if you did,
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Another Spectrum 
24 Sep, 2015 at 3:09 pm
We who are so different, how do we fit in? There are some times when it is just too difficult, something obviously easy for everyone is impossible;
yet feeling the need to flap the hands, when not doing so will be too stressful-
and doing it-
may be liberating for more than just Aspies.
24 Sep, 2015 at 4:30 pm
When will the world wake up to the fact that being different isn’t a disorder, whether that’s being on the autism spectrum or whose gender identity or sexuality isn’t the same as what the majority of humanity expects?
24 Sep, 2015 at 9:47 pm
Thought provoking Barry – thank you.