One of the most universally “autistic” struggles I undergo is requiring a certain level of precision of language in order to be able to process the new information I’m receiving in a meaningful way.
“Starseed,” she’d called me. This word echoed in my mind, bouncing off half-formed structures crafted from similar substances. What did it mean? What would become of me if I followed her advice? Would the pain and suffering, confusion and desperation finally clear up, finally allow the light into this world of darkness I’d lived so long in?