All I Ask...
Poem by Anonymous
鈥淲e鈥檙e all a bit special,鈥� she says.
I finally got the courage to speak鈥�
to tell them my life has taken a strange twist.
鈥淲e鈥檙e all a bit special, we鈥檙e all on the spectrum,鈥� she says.
Do you not know how that sounds?
To take what is real,
to take what costs me everything鈥�
and wrap it in a ribbon of casual clich茅?
鈥淲e鈥檙e all on the spectrum,鈥� he says.
Does he not realise what that means?
Does he not realise鈥�
No. Scratch that.
鈥淲e鈥檙e all a bit special,鈥� he says.
Well, does he not get it yet?
Why, oh why, do they not see
that these words鈥�
they take away my being?
What people don鈥檛 get
is that when we forget,
or when we seem a little bit鈥�
strange?
It鈥檚 not quirky.
Not random.
Not some kind of perky.
It鈥檚 that we are masking so hard it that it hurts.
It鈥檚 that when we get home,
we crumble in pain,
we fall from the skies and hit the dirt.
And still get up.
Again, again and again to face
鈥淓veryone鈥檚 a little bit ADHD,鈥� they say.
Like it鈥檚 a personality trait.
Like it鈥檚 a colour you choose to wear for a day.
Well, actually? That鈥檚 me.
I don鈥檛 know what it鈥檚 like
to be breezing through this place.
I do know the discrimination I face,
trying to claw my way
up this 鈥淚vory Tower鈥�
Or even hang on to that slippery wall鈥�
And who knows?
Maybe I鈥檒l make it.
Maybe I鈥檒l get there.
In an hour.
Or a year.
All I ask
is that you listen.
That you hear.
That you stop and think:
Maybe life鈥檚 been hard for her.
Maybe they鈥檙e fighting battles
just to be standing here.
It鈥檚 not a quick fix.
We need understanding.
We need support,
Or maybe鈥� just maybe
just give us our standing.
By Anonymous