You might not know me, but I'm that kid. You know, the one that sits at the front of the class.
I don't usually say much – It's not because I'm stupid or anything, I just sometimes don't know what the question is, or sometimes I don't know how to answer it.
I used to answer the questions, though. I'd answer, and then somebody would laugh, and the teacher would shake her head and tell me that I got it wrong, and I should pay better attention. But nobody ever explained why it was wrong.
So, I just stopped.
Before I came to school, I used to answer lots of questions. I thought some of them were very silly.
You know, I can hear you. I can hear you while you're all the way up at the back of the room. I hear you say things about me; You say that I am a 'retard', but I'm not. I'm not slow. I can run very fast, actually. I think you are very stupid sometimes.
At lunch, when you throw things at me, I don't see why you laugh. Is it that much fun to throw things? I don't really like catch. It makes my arms tired, so I don't get the things you throw and throw them back. I usually just walk away.
But you'd know that.
I wish I could tell you what it was like to be me.
Colours are too bright, sounds are too loud, smells are icky, and nothing makes sense. It would take too long to explain, though.
Thank you for reading this.
Um, yes… As an autistic teenager, I think that just about sums up the first few years of my life. Obviously, some things are changed, but all-in-all, that's about what I felt.