The Passionate Autistic
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Let me take you on a journey of feelings
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Stories (36)
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A Place Little Romeo Belongs
Scene 7 Little Romeo did find love, just where I least expected it, 4000 Km away. I'd first met a girl through an online chatroom called Whyville. She said she was five years older and a model. I wouldn't get bullied if I dated a model and she said she had gigs all over Canada.
By The Passionate Autistic5 years ago in Confessions
To My Fair Maiden
I cannot deny it anymore. I am only entrapping myself in an abyss of denial. I have longed to gaze into your beautiful eyes and tell you how I truly feel. Your radiant beauty has encased me in a cocoon of astonishment. Your scent is of freshly picked roses on a cool crisp morning that sends tingling sensations down my spine. Your mere footsteps unleash a constant pulsating inside myself. But alas, it is my heart beating faster as you pass by, and give off a wondrous light that could fill the darkest of my corners.
By The Passionate Autistic5 years ago in Poets
Nobody knows, but Romeo's on the Spectrum
TW: Suicide Two households, both alike in dignity. Along the fair Saskatchewan Prairies, we lay our scene. It’s not as flat as they say, you just have to go north. But it’s in the flat south where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the woes of adolescence, a pair of star-crossed lovers offer up their lives. Amongst pleas, the adults have heard enough. With his death, Romeo hopes to bury the strife. A fearful passage of death-marked love and the continuance of rage – which but marked their children’s end, naught could remove. What here was missed, my toil shall strive to mend it in the impending passages.
By The Passionate Autistic5 years ago in Confessions
Thinking in Movies
There was a lot I'd assumed throughout life. It became one of the neater aspects of my diagnosis. I'd been describing myself as mildly autistic, I just didn't know it. I described myself as a "weird boy" and later as "Mildly to Moderately Spicy". "Only 'weird boys' think those sorts of things," or "I've heard about 'weird boys' that squeeze things they love too hard and kill them,".
By The Passionate Autistic5 years ago in Psyche
Oozing Heart
My passion has become life and trying to help other people find their passion. How I'd gone about that has changed over time. First I'd wanted to be a Microbiologist in Grade 6. I was going to cure The Common Cold and help a lot of people. But when my Grandpa passed away in grade 9, I changed that to curing cancer, since not as many people died from the Common Cold. I didn't want anyone to feel as sad as I did. But life had a different journey for me.
By The Passionate Autistic5 years ago in Motivation
The Next Line
I am not like every other writer. I don't write every night till I get tired. Yet, these pieces I write are heavily admired. The complements fired to the words that came to my mind. That surged through my arm. Emerged from the lead. Purged the paper. Everything this soul has said, just bled through into the mainstream. But it was the same seam sowed down the lane in my brain.
By The Passionate Autistic5 years ago in Poets
Poison Control
My first left me undeserving, how could I decide when I was better? My life has become very exciting and I'm doing lots of interesting things. There are terrific women I'm meeting, yet part of me can't help feeling the love part of my life is over. Do you know how to mend a broken heart? These Band-Aids aren't holding up and the super glue tears apart. They say time heals all wounds. I guess that depends on how fast the clock ticks. One minute too slow "Tick tick.......... Tick".
By The Passionate Autistic5 years ago in Poets
The Great Debate of Grade 9
Up until grade 9 started, it had just been my parents I figured weren’t understanding me. Now I was starting to realize that even kids my own age also weren’t. Often times, something made perfect sense coursing through my head, so I was always at a loss for why we were on different pages. It was losing its context when coming out from the cortex and through the speaker box. My brain was going to fast for me to convey everything. I’d see the words forming a sentence, floating around in my brain-scape. I’d try to grasp them, but I’d only be able to get a few before the next sentence came.
By The Passionate Autistic5 years ago in Psyche
Memories
I’d count up the days. It had been some time now and although the memories had lingered, I couldn’t remember the specific day she was taken away. The pamphlet said the promised land would be something to behold. We arrived hand in hand, onlooking the glorious nature of our new landscape. Except I lost her hand as we were separated at the gates. I stood strong, demanding answers, but the shadows in Kevlar had nothing to say to me. They just poked deeply into my kidney, moving me back in line.
By The Passionate Autistic5 years ago in Fiction
