Diary of an autistic boy (1)
Pgaitho.blogspot.com, Peter Gaitho
Published Dec. 17, 2010
Today I had time to think. I looked all over the shopping mall. Everyone seemed excited by the displays on the windows. The products looked enticing. I wanted to buy the little dalmatian toy, but my mother said I could not have it. She said I am a big boy now, and that big boys don’t play with small boys’ toys. I cannot talk back to my mother, or to anyone for that matter; at least not using their language. My language cannot easily be understood by anyone, because I speak silently. My mind forms words, but my mouth refuses to utter them. I try shouting, but nothing comes out of my mouth.
I can see other people conversing loudly. They seem so happy, so I join in the laughter, only for my mom to tell me to be quiet because I should not laugh without a reason. “But everyone seems happy mom,” I try to tell her, but she has gone back to her world. She is talking on her phone, with her boyfriend. And I am so frustrated. I do not know why in moments like this I start twirling my hair. Before my mom turns my way, I am holding some strands of hair, and some blood is on my finger. It is painful, but I would rather feel pain than be ignored by everyone. And why is everyone looking at me that way?
Why are they all looking at me? Why me? What is so different about me?
To be continued.
