Just an invisible body, making movement, not to standout, become a target of laughter, ridicule. Never knowing what to say. If I raise my hand will my lips form the right words? With what certainty is my answer? Dare not to be wrong, spotlighted, mocked. High school, where one wrong answer can reverberate off locker filled walks, never dying, always lying in wait to hit you again.
Praying for one person to smile, to notice you, to see you. A friend. Searching, wondering if there is one person who will want to talk, to sit with....someone who you don't repulse. Someone who cares enough to tap on the thickened wall and isn't scared off by the hollow, faraway sound.
The mythical friend, the search for that which materializes only briefly, gets too close to the flame and evaporates away, never to return. The quest begun in high school continues into adulthood, always unfulfilled cept for short, sonic bursts.
Adolescence revolves around finding acceptance and who you are. It's like riding the bus, anticipating the arrival at your destination. Yet, the bus ride never stops. There is never a terminal of acceptance and okayness. No one misses you on the long journey. No one knows you have even left.
The dream of a friend blows with each candle snuffed, every year.
One learns not to hope. One learns to delve fully into objects of obsession that can be controlled, bought and sold...not in people. Too risky. The rise and fall. When someone walks in the door, I stand there, ready to close it before they do. Because one slam in the face was enough to know that I have little tolerance for intimate pain.
I'm a fan of "The Breakfast Club", "Sixteen Candles", Dawson's Creek, any show that accurately, dramatically portrays the teenage angst I experience with ease. The first film that moved me was "Ordinary People." Timothy Hutton struggling with the grief of loss, the coldness of a parent, the lostness and desire to fit in and be accepted. Searching for a friend, someone to hear the haunting secrets and feelings.
High School never ends, for this Aspie.
