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If I keep silent, quiet and passive

You say I’m an angel.

When I find my voice and type what I think

You call me hateful.

I have opinions and I can analyze

But if I point out your mistakes

You deem me nonsensical.

If my impairments are too visible

The pitiful looks,

The inpatient sighs

Are all you have to offer.

You ask for an explanation

But you never listen.

You say I can choose,

I can type my needs

If it is food or a trivial question.

But then I type an opinion,

An insight on a complex issue

You ignore me

Because “look at her, do you think she knows?”

This is an example of how I have to be the “perfect” person in order to have some value in the eyes of some. I have to be super human, prove my every action, or I shall be treated as less than human.

I am impaired and disabled, and if I keep quiet and silent, I will be “cared for”. Because disabled people who never complain, who live in passivity are forever “angels”.

I can type and some will say I am really amazing. Until I disagree with them. Then I become a fake because if you look and move like me, you cannot develop critical thinking.

Sometimes I have meltdowns and I can’t help it. But some “very important people” call me difficult because I can’t feel things like everybody else and the overwhelming environment is “not that bad”.

According to some I can’t feel. I can’t feel the ember penetrating my skin. I didn’t cry and my face was a blank. They knew me so well – I roll my eyes, metaphorically.

I know I can type and I have a plan. It is a vision, a goal and I work to achieve it. Whatever will happen, will happen on my time. It is MY agenda, nobody else’s. But I hear the voices of dismissal: “fake, fake, fake!”

Here what I am to the ones with no vision, to the ones who don’t dare to see the whole picture:

A silent angel

A pitiful soul

A poor, damaged, eternal child

A nasty brat

A difficult, impossible person

A compliant, agreeable “sweetie”

A know-nothing hoax

A fake.

But I am none of that, and I am more:

I am ME.

And here is what you are to me:

Someone whose agenda does not change the plans I have for myself.

A hurdle I will leave behind.

Forgettable.