What took the cake of the things I could have been was; a better son.
I’m a genius when I put my mind to it, but Asperger’s will render that quite difficult and especially so if you couldn’t understand why you felt alienated. I can also do anything provided I had enough time, I’m really quite informed in all walks of life and it’s subordinate facets. I think that came to be because I spent so much time denying what I was and in the process learned a billion other things to be. I learned people. I learned what love and care was like without ever having a real example from home. And I pushed it. I went to extremes when I learned these things because it felt like it could get me away from my family, my universe. My parents weren’t terrible parents. I just found out, not a moment before writing this while taking a dump, that my parents were just as resilient and prolific in nature as I was. I shunned my youth solely because everyone else seemed to have a family that had it so much fucking easier than mine. My agitation increased tenfold when I found other Asian kids to come from money. They were pricks too. I subconsciously wanted to be a prick to, a big one, metaphorically. I mean I really didn’t look all that different from them apart from fashion expenditures. Its was a handicapped life as though the universe picked on us simply because it was bigger. In all I’ve learned, I’ve learned hermetically and I’ve learned that I was a terrible son because of the materialism the rest of society imposed upon me. I used to believe having lots of cool expensive things was as good as knowing who I was.
But I am not an 80 gig ps3 I purchased on the release date. I am not a plethora of vintage clothing and boys from the 60’s era. my clothes were pushing 50 years old. I am not a vast collection of DVDs of Indie cult movies. I am not my record collection of obscure musicians. I am not the display of books on my bookshelf. I am not the cute minimalist organizational angles of my ikea furniture. I am not the car I drive, nor train, nor bike.
What I am is the feeling of vintage clothing and it’s history. I am the mind of a 50 year old man, or woman I’d I include the strange obsession with shoes I had. I am the interest of new technology and new ways if being like a ps5. I am the dialogue and the story in all those movies we all love watching, even In Her Shoes. I am the feeling of an obscure musician under a needle until I click. I am the ideas in all the books I’ve read as I am the counter arguments to some of the books I’ve read. I am the clean, sleek state of an armoire from Sweden. I am catching onto the ways you and your friends make me and my friends feel.
You may think I have gone insane, but I was insane from the beginning. I was insane from misinformation until I got the picture. I want to show you but you’ll just tread on me again. What tells me I’m right is this: my picture applies to every single person in this world while yours applies to you. I want my world back. You can keep bussing tables to finance your fancies, but when the rest of us aren’t impressed anymore. You’ll feel pretty silly for thinking I was crazy. Welcome to the grander scheme of things, biaaaatch. My world is a world where lessons learned are not forgotten. I hope you can say that too one day.