I don’t have anxiety

I become afraid when you’ve caught me in sin

I can stare you in the eye

I do it to your girls every night

I can hold a conversation

because the people I watch most don’t speak

I don’t gain weight

I lose my strength with every release

I don’t pray

My hands are always clasped together

when you’re not looking

when you are

I just need to do it quick, just one more time

look how far I’ve fallen

I lay with the vagabonds

and call them father

I grope the rank, stretched pussies of whores

at least, in my mind

for a night

multiplied by eleven years

I’ve forgotten hope and horror

faith and fear

just let me gaze your naked scars

that’s all I want for Christmas this year

I don’t need a real woman

I just need a link

I don’t need…

We all spend a good chunk of our lives putting on a metaphorical mask for the world around us. Relatable, right? You wear an “I’m fine” mask when you are dying inside. Or an “ideal version of me” mask when with people you can’t quite be open with. Or an “I’m in control of my life” mask when you suddenly realise you are an adult…

Or a “neurotypical” mask, as an Asperger person in a world of neurotypicals. That is, non autistic people.

This past week has not been the best. Having got a packaging job the week before, I turned up for day two and was sent home for not working fast enough on day one. Ouch. And it’s at times like this that my neurotypical mask keeps slipping.

Let me explain.

With my mask, I can listen to someone without breaking eye contact to look at…