Question
A question fills my head.
Were I a girl instead
– Same book, but different cover –
Would you become my lover?
Or would we still be friends?
Now, I ask: don’t get me wrong.
I love our friendship, and it’s strong.
I love it when I make you smile,
Even for a little while.
I love it when I’m at your side.
Our conversations make my day.
And nothing makes me feel more pride
Than impressing you some way.
Now, I wonder: can you tell?
How you make me feel so well?
That this smile is just for you?
And if you knew, then what you’d do?
Now, I know that you are straight.
And we’re both guys, so we won’t date.
So a question fills my head.
Were I a girl instead…
Note: I wrote this poem before realizing I’m a trans woman, which is why I’m calling myself a guy in there, but I’m absolutely not one. I have since learned that gender isn’t just a matter of a “different cover” – it’s definitely part of the book.
– Lady Scarecrow
Finding out you’re trans later in life is like watching a movie littered with spoilers for the ending but you don’t realize it til you get to the end look back.
Same with autism.
As far back as I remember, I had a nagging sense that I could be secretly mentally challenged and nobody ever told me. Of course it’s not quite true, and I recognized that it was irrational.
Now that I know I am autistic, and have the words to describe it: I simply had the very common autistic thought that something was wrong with me and that I didn’t fit in society.
If you’ll allow me to vent for second:
When I was 11 my mother got me assessed for being a “gifted kid” (at least here it seems to be an actual diagnosis you can get to help for school accomodations). I shit you not the assessor heard a 11 years old boy who she’d just shown a Rorschach test go “I don’t see anything, it’s just ink on paper” and she diligently checked the “nope, not autistic” box. I’m still fuming.
