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Thinking is hard. My brain runs on a different frequency. It’s fuzzy and grainy and while most people are able to understand the words I say I often feel my message is lost. Because of my difference I have to constantly think.

I must think if my face is showing the right expression. I have to think if my body is posed properly to convert my emotions into body language. I have to think of what I want to say. I have to think of how to say what I want to say. I have to to think how to deliver my words so not to scare my audience away. I have to think to deliver my words. I have to think if my words are getting the understanding I desire while delivering my message. I have to think to convert any response back into something my brain can understand. And then the process starts all over again.

Thinking is exhausting. Living in a world where you are looked down upon for daring to do what comes naturally is pure torture.

When every minuscule detail of my life goes through my head, I think about it. I cannot help it. I also cannot help the questions that come from having to examine life at such close proximity.

What is torture is when I reach out to others to relieve the mental strain of billions of questions swirling around in my head, I am constantly shut down and looked at like a freak, put in an insane asylum, or left to complete seclusion.

Why will no one answer my questions? Why will no one tell me why life has to be this way?

Why do people have to die from illnesses we have the resources to eradicate? Why do we have people die from hunger when we throw food away every single day?

Why do we judge people for what we are guilty of ourselves?

Why is there such a thing as poverty? Why do homes sit empty while people sit homeless?

Why do children go to orphanages or run away from home when there are people desperate to have a family?

Why do people kill people? Why do people want to hurt people? Why do people want to hurt themselves?

Why do people choose not to help? Why do people keep for themselves when they could share with others? Why is wealth equated to something as temporary as possessions?

Why do we work to live when life comes naturally? Why do people profit from the enslavement of people? Why do people care about profit? Why does money make the world go ’round? Why do people accept money?

Why do people accept violence? Why do people accept injustice? Why do people accept only what they can touch?

Why do people not ask these questions? Why do people not demand answers?

Why do people not change what is to make something better?


When I do get a response from people it is usually to say,”I don’t know.” This response unnerves me because it is one parroted by mainstream society.

I am forced to live in a world that doesn’t respect me as a living being. I am forced to live in a world I have no say in how it is shaped. I am forced to live by other’s ideas of what “should” be best for me. I am forced to live like this merely because I was born.

How is that fair?

There is not another person on this planet that can tell me how my brain works or how it operates. And yet I’m being told how I should live my life? How can people dictate a life they know nothing about?

My life, my world, my essence is love. I love to love. I am love. I give love. I desire love.

And yet in this cold and uncaring world there is no place for me. I love and breathe and yet there is no place for my soul on this entire planet.

How is that fair? Isn’t there enough room for this little girl from Akron Ohio? I don’t take up much space. I try not to ask for too much. I want to be able to love life. I want to be free to be myself. I want to be free to help people. I want to be free to love people. I want to be free.

But before I can free myself, I must first free the world. How do you free people who don’t even know what it means to be free?

I believe it starts with love.