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Abstract

nobody else knows although you may have the clues if as well labelled such. Perhaps, already I have said too much?It is unreachable and indescribable, an ever timeless state of agnosia, nobody really knows ya’, encounters begin, encounters end, yet never reaching you, or escaping me, while the toll it casts upon me and speaks to me of giving up – sometimes in soft whispers, and sometimes as wails of withered weeping and gnashing of teeth.But there is always hope. There is always a chance. I will never forget that chance is the most unexpected gift of all, and the root of all my creativity and imaginationIt’s never forced. It’s just a thing to get me wondering if the chance is unhoped-for, undeserved, or above all others – an expectation.¹“Every champion was once a contender who refused to give in.”Don’t ever give in . . . .Give you . . .Give me. . .Give all of us a place where we all fit in.<h1 id="b23f">Read More of My Writing On:</h1><ul><li><a href="https://medium.com/artfullyautistic">Artfully Autistic and Neuro

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diverse Writers — In Our Own Words</a></li><li><a href="https://medium.com/illumination-curated/search?q=Keira%20Fulton-Lees">Illumination-Curated</a></li><li><a href="https://medium.com/illumination/search?q=Keira%20Fulton-Lees">Illumination</a></li><li><a href="https://the-art-of-autism.com/autistic-superpowers/">The Art of Autism</a></li><li><a href="https://themighty.com/2019/10/what-autism-meltdowns-feel-like/">The Mighty</a></li></ul><figure id="e3a3"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*bkSQazy7OY1EbdLZex0dew.jpeg"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><figure id="9681"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*yMS9G20160P1GCWeQqLUBg.jpeg"><figcaption>-= <a href="https://medium.com/artfullyautistic">Artfully Autistic and Neurodiverse Writers</a> =- Circular Words ©AraN Outer Logo by Author Inner Image by <a href="https://www.shutterstock.com/g/fliegenwulf">fliegenwulf</a> / <a href="https://www.shutterstock.com/">shutterstock.com</a></figcaption></figure><h2 id="4e4e">Footnotes, Citations, and References</h2>¹ Rocky Balboa (Sylvester Stallone), from the movie Rocky</article></body>

POETIC PROSE

Another World

The perspective from the Spectrum.

I struggle each day to find my place in this world – living between the spaces that separate me into the smallness of a life devoid of closeness.

Frozen in tracks and held in place by forces I cannot control that hide within the cracks in my soul and within a maladaptive place of piercing brightness.

The world spins away just beyond the distance of my ability to reach, and in this state of dissociation I am neither in this world yet not in another, but in a place, in between that I only know when all cognition escapes me.

I have my weapons and I fight back with all of my might, and although I may win the battles, the war wages on endlessly.

This is the life I know as Autism. A life as nobody else knows although you may have the clues if as well labelled such. Perhaps, already I have said too much?

It is unreachable and indescribable, an ever timeless state of agnosia, nobody really knows ya’, encounters begin, encounters end, yet never reaching you, or escaping me, while the toll it casts upon me and speaks to me of giving up – sometimes in soft whispers, and sometimes as wails of withered weeping and gnashing of teeth.

But there is always hope. There is always a chance. I will never forget that chance is the most unexpected gift of all, and the root of all my creativity and imagination

It’s never forced. It’s just a thing to get me wondering if the chance is unhoped-for, undeserved, or above all others – an expectation.

¹“Every champion was once a contender who refused to give in.”

Don’t ever give in . . . .

Give you . . .

Give me. . .

Give all of us a place where we all fit in.