autismtwin
April 29th, 2013, 07:08 PM
I don't know where I got the idea to write this. My ideas are usually come to me at random moments.
The memories were given; abuse. Memories that shall haunt for eternity. Memories of unwanted attention.
Who are you?
“Momma, doesn’t every family have a child with autism?” “No, sweetheart. Not every family is like that.” “But, why, momma? I don’t understand.” “Neither do I,” she said as tears welled up in her eyes.
Who are you?
Breathe. Don’t hyperventilate. Don’t show them your tears. Your throat isn’t closing, it’s just a panic attack. You’re not dying; you’re just drowning in your eternal hell.
Who are you?
The blood is spewing out like a water main break. Shaking. It’ll never happen again. Ever. But it does, again and again. Shh, don’t tell. It’s a secret. A secret that will be carried for years. It’s a story. A story that each scar will come to tell. But no one will ever have to know.
Who are you?
Soon enough you’ll be dead. It’ll all be over with. Oh, shit! The door is unlocked! “Oh, my god!” “I’m not dead yet,” the scratchy voice from the closet replied. She cut you down. You were saved.
Who are you?
“I’m going to beat the fuck out of you.” Keep walking. Act like you didn’t hear them. Maybe they’ll leave you alone. “Go kill yourself, you’re worthless.” She goes right out of the front door and runs home in tears.
Who are you?
Don’t eat, fatass. You’re pathetic, you know that? Maybe people would like you more if you were thinner. Yeah, that has to be it. You’re just too fat.
Who are you?
“Just stop it! Shut up! Stop arguing, please!”
Who are you?
Smile, that’s right. Smile, a big broad and happy one. Make jokes! Laugh. Pretend to be okay. It’s a show for everyone else. They’ll never suspect a thing.
Who are you?
The clock’s ticking. She’s staring at me as she patiently waits for an answer. “I’m Cassie,” I say. “I’m fourteen years old, and I’m an actress.” “An actress?” “Yes, I put on a lovely show for everyone else when I’m deteriorating inside.”
The memories were given; abuse. Memories that shall haunt for eternity. Memories of unwanted attention.
Who are you?
“Momma, doesn’t every family have a child with autism?” “No, sweetheart. Not every family is like that.” “But, why, momma? I don’t understand.” “Neither do I,” she said as tears welled up in her eyes.
Who are you?
Breathe. Don’t hyperventilate. Don’t show them your tears. Your throat isn’t closing, it’s just a panic attack. You’re not dying; you’re just drowning in your eternal hell.
Who are you?
The blood is spewing out like a water main break. Shaking. It’ll never happen again. Ever. But it does, again and again. Shh, don’t tell. It’s a secret. A secret that will be carried for years. It’s a story. A story that each scar will come to tell. But no one will ever have to know.
Who are you?
Soon enough you’ll be dead. It’ll all be over with. Oh, shit! The door is unlocked! “Oh, my god!” “I’m not dead yet,” the scratchy voice from the closet replied. She cut you down. You were saved.
Who are you?
“I’m going to beat the fuck out of you.” Keep walking. Act like you didn’t hear them. Maybe they’ll leave you alone. “Go kill yourself, you’re worthless.” She goes right out of the front door and runs home in tears.
Who are you?
Don’t eat, fatass. You’re pathetic, you know that? Maybe people would like you more if you were thinner. Yeah, that has to be it. You’re just too fat.
Who are you?
“Just stop it! Shut up! Stop arguing, please!”
Who are you?
Smile, that’s right. Smile, a big broad and happy one. Make jokes! Laugh. Pretend to be okay. It’s a show for everyone else. They’ll never suspect a thing.
Who are you?
The clock’s ticking. She’s staring at me as she patiently waits for an answer. “I’m Cassie,” I say. “I’m fourteen years old, and I’m an actress.” “An actress?” “Yes, I put on a lovely show for everyone else when I’m deteriorating inside.”