Major and Minor: a Poem About Autism
What’s major to me is minor to you. What’s minor to me is major to you.
How have these reversed?
Why is it major when I’m in a crowd at a party?
You hear melodious music. Everyone jubilant and carefree.
Minor in comparison to me.
I hear excessive noise. Everyone unpredictable and careless.
It’s all uncontrollable noise.
Noise that overwhelms me, suffocates me; unable to move.
Why is it major for me to talk to others?
Put up a cheery disposition in the hope I’ll be “normal.” And that’s minor to you.
You say “you seem so normal”… only because I’ve trained myself to be.
I’m not who you think I am.
Normal doesn’t exist.
Maybe I’m a narcissist.
Overly obsessed with what I do.
How I sound.
What I think.
How I look.
This is not narcissism. This is my conscience.
I have to be self-involved.
Things don’t come naturally.
I need to learn.
Everything is major.
Getty image by Peter Horrox.