Autistic
As in: he is autistic.
I don’t say that anymore.
And for good reason.
I have autism…
is my truth.
He has autism.
It’s the description, not the definition.
IFL / PFL… I know
You want to be defined by it.
That’s your issue
I’m defined by me.
Neurotypical – now there’s a phrase.
Same trick.
Smarter.
Slicker.
Deceptive Committee-speak.
Neuroblah.
Two descriptive words.
And therein lies the problem.
Neuro equals brain.
Typical equals normal.
And therein lies the solution.
Calling someone non-neurotypical,
like they all do, means…
I’m not like them.
Or you.
That simple, really.
So let’s reframe.
Like some do.
Go on the attack
Use it to smear boring old you…
we could go for the usual:
Allistic.
NT.
Or push it further:
Neuro-vain, scrolling for validation,
Neuro-racist, “just jokes” in polite company,
Neuro-smalltalk, filling silence like it’s oxygen,
Neuro-elevator-music, pleasant, forgettable, inescapable,
Neuro-vanilla, no flavour, just the default scoop,
Neuro-bland,
Neuroshite.
All running on the same timetable…
Never late, never lost, never wondering why.
But therein lies the myth…
Maybe we should just admit
it’s all just a spectrum
and I’m on a rocket
while you’re stuck
waiting for the bus.
But don’t get me wrong…
the rocket isn’t higher,
just wired
for a different flight path.
It burns fast,
goes silent,
sometimes misses the sky entirely.
The bus…
steady, predictable,
gets everyone home on time.
That’s its genius.
Mine’s in the glitches,
the detours,
the strange orbits
that make no sense
until they do.
Problem is,
the world still builds bus stops,
not launchpads.
And when the rocket
doesn’t queue,
doesn’t wait,
doesn’t follow the timetable…
they call it broken.
But maybe…
just maybe…
we’re all transport
on the same route,
trying to reach
a destination
called understanding.
- UpsilonA
Loved it.