Babble [autistic poetry]

I wrote this one back on January 20, 1994, when I was 16 and not well.  There were interesting clues that emerged from the deep, toward the surface, even then.  (Spot the undiagnosed, depressed, 16-year-old autistic female.)  ๐Ÿ™‚

The sun was sad today…you know…how it beats down hard in mid-afternoon…this one–peachish color…
So sad…so normal…so heavenly.
One can dream then…an escape.
Ever do that?  Ever escape?
Yeah, it was never so fun for me.
Should’ve known back in ’79…’84…’92.
My brain shuts down; I lose my train of thought.  I babble.
People change;  I never did.  Yet I did that too fast once.
I learned that once…from one of the few friends I had.
Never got too close.  Couldn’t get hurt that way…especially here.
No one opens up; that’s fine with me.
We all make mistakes.  I feel like I was a mistake.
How could our creators have planned anything like me?
I wouldn’t wish it on very many people.
They don’t quite know what it’s like.
They’ve screwed up their own world; I wallow in mine.
It might not be as safe; but I’m the center of mine.
I’m not in control…never will be.
I know that if I’m flung into the world…long enough…I’ll self-destruct…in the brain.
Know what it’s like?  What goes on up there?
Same thing all the time…can never be cured.
They just don’t understand that.
But that’s OK.
I’ll be OK.
I call my one friend to tell her that I’m OK.
I call her to talk…but what does one say?…What does one do?
What do they talk about….



      1. You don’t have to thank me for each reblog. I realize you are a busy woman, I kinda know you appreciate the reblogs. You have a wonderful HuMpDaY. โ˜บ๏ธ๐ŸŒท๐Ÿค“๐ŸŒป๐Ÿ˜Ž๐ŸŒน๐Ÿ‘ป

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  1. Oh, my. How I relate! This sounds like 16 year old me. I wish I had saved my poetry from then, but I had a horrible habit of destroying my work out of embarassment and self-loathing. Thank you for sharing this. Gives good insight. ๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜˜

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    1. Thank you so much, my lovely! ๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜˜. So relieved to not be alone, but sorry for you that you went through something like that, too ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿ’ž. Interestingly enough, I actually came across a piece I’d written, I think that same year, called “Almost Autistic” (!!). Of course, nobody had a clue (I wouldn’t be diagnosed for 22+ more years)…but maybe, just maybe, I actually had a clue after all. If enough people are interested, I’ll post that one in the near future ๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ’™

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  2. I’m reaching back through time and gathering up 16 year old you for a great big hug!!!
    I had my first depression crisis when I was 15. Completely under the radar. I can relate. ๐Ÿ’Œ๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜˜๐ŸŒท๐ŸŒผ๐ŸŒธ๐ŸŒบ

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    1. Thank you so much, Cosmic Sister ๐Ÿ’—๐Ÿ’—. Yep, I had my first breakdown at almost-14; wasn’t quite the same after that, at least until I was about 25-26. Under the radar until about 14, then medicated until 25. Ugh. My 16-year-old self (and my almost-40-year-old self) love you bunches and totally hugs you back! ๐Ÿค—๐Ÿค—๐Ÿ˜˜โค๏ธ๐Ÿ’ž๐ŸŒท๐ŸŒบ๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ™Œ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿฆ„

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        1. Oh no ๐Ÿ’ž๐Ÿ’ž๐Ÿ’ž. I’m so sorry luv ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿ’. I’m not sure I needed meds, TBH. They made me more apathetic and eventually the side effects piled up, out-doing the benefits. I’m lucky in that I found a natural way (a few times, different each time) to climb out and re-balance myself. It was sort of by “accident” (if there is a such thing lol ๐Ÿ˜‰) that I stumbled across them. I hope your results have been a lot better than mine ๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜˜โค๏ธโค๏ธ


          1. Oh yeah! I was on meds for about a year, did LOTS of therapy. Did meds for about a year a few years later. Got my chemicals rebalanced and have been med free since. I know my warning signs and am able to work through things better. Before it gets so bad my chemistry goes wonky so I’m lucky there. Some people just have wonky chemistry period and thank goodness there are meds that help.๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜˜

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  3. So interesting to look back and see how far we have come. I wonder if poetry is like dreams – always something new to glean in reviewing them. Sounds like writing has been a lifeline for you as it has been for me.

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