My Autistic Mind: A Voice Unfiltered

I stand on the edge of a world not my own, seeing patterns unseen, speaking a language unheard. Different, yet not less.

Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash

I stand on the threshold of a world that is not my own. The sounds are too loud, the lights too bright, the words too many. People speak in riddles and move in patterns I do not understand. They exchange glances that carry meanings I cannot decipher; communicate through subtle gestures I fail to recognize. I am an outsider, a spectator in a play whose script eludes me, forever watching but never truly belonging.

When I speak, my words sometimes stumble over themselves. They crash against walls of misunderstanding and echo back to me, distorted and incomplete. My thoughts are like a tangle of threads, neatly arranged in my mind but unraveling the moment I try to express them. I have rehearsed conversations in my head countless times, but the moment comes, and the words slip through my fingers like grains of sand. People say I am silent, that I live in my own world. But my world is not empty. My world is filled with details others overlook, with structures invisible to them, with an order and harmony that so often feels absent in theirs.

I see rhythms in the way leaves fall, hear the cadence in the ticking of a clock, feel the…