Ghosts

   Yeah, Asperger's. The very nature of the disease makes me unsure of exactly how much I'm crippled by it, but as far as I can see I'm fine. If it weren't for the reminders. The reminders of how awkward it's possible to be. That's what you're here for, yes? To hear me tell about it? To try to understand me when I myself don't know what to say to make you understand because that's exactly the problem? Okay, it might not be as inflated as I make it sound (once again, I'm not sure,) but it sure sounds pretty, doesn't it?

   But, since I'm unable to see the problem, I'm alright with it. I don't know if it's good or bad but I do know it could be worse. This isn't a curse; it's a blessing. Sometimes (all the time) it'd be great if it were more of a blessing, but that's true of anything. There are those to whom what to me is a gift is a curse, of course. It had to manifest itself in this exactly specific way. Different each time, but all exactly specific. That make sense? It's always specific, the exact manifestation, coming up as a little reminder of how things are in times where it either would or would not be convenient. Not as much for me as with some others, so I think I'm able to tell exactly what that means. I... think I've got a pretty good grasp on what anything else would be, better or worse, but there are still the little reminders again. I don't know how far out I am.

   For some, it comes as a crippling retardation, but, speaking of all of humanity, are we not all retarded in some way or another? There are the savants, of course, no more or less common than you'd think. We may very well all be savants, as well, but that's exactly how our retardation manifests itself, so that  we could never be able to show it.

   The wise man proclaims himself to be a fool, so I'm just chasing the horizon trying to figure out exactly how autistic I am and am not. How autistic I am and am not. That was a weird admission. It felt weird. Feels weird. I am autistic. From the Greek, autos, meaning self. I myself. I am autistic. It's a contradiction and a tautology rolled into one. How could you be, or not be, or even know for sure? It's different each time, so the only way to gauge it is against others. Bizarre.

   Either way, while for some it would be a retardation, for me it is my genius. In the original Latin meaning, too, I guess. A personal spirit. Haunting me like a ghost. For many, it is a poltergeist. But for me it is a genius. There are many such haunted who can approach or even exceed standard, but I can count myself blessed that my ghost has wings. Count you blessings, yeah.