I do not believe I have to tell other people on the autistic spectrum, regardless of how passive they may be, how frightening and appalling the news tends to be. One only need look at the litany of stories about autistic adolescents and children being murdered and the perpetrators being blown or eaten out by the media. Or listen to my asshole idiot parental units trying to tell me it really is not all that bad.
That is partly why I have not written much in the past couple of weeks. My brain just cannot step up to the task. I am sure that if you asked every professional author in the world, they would tell you that the bottleneck in writing a story is not the speed at which they type, but rather the speed at which they think up ideas.
There are many things that bother me about the world I live in. The lunacy that drives the belief that we need to have twice as many young as there are old for the sole purpose of keeping the old fed and comfortable as they get older is but one of them. Another is the strange idea that the opinion of a person who is completely ignorant of the subject they speak about is somehow more valuable than that of a person who has devoted their life to studying the subject, simply because the statements made by the ignorant coincide more with what the person wishes to hear. This idea, although most concentrated in America, has become so destructive to lives and the species as a whole that it may well be the end of said species.
Some time, maybe a month or two, after I was prescribed with Fluoxetine, I began having some rather nasty dreams. That in itself was not the problem. The real problem was that these dreams were so vivid that I was having difficulty discerning, even after waking, that they were in fact dreams. So I stopped taking the Fluoxetine, even though I had not so much as discussed it with a doctor.
The problem, of course, is that after a couple of months without Fluoxetine, I am now wanting something to take in its place. I do not know what the answer is going to be. I am not a doctor and I think my chances of ever becoming one are long gone. The best I can do is research and educate myself about the ins and outs of subjects like this so I can at least know when to be suspicious that an unscrupulous doctor is trying to bullshit me.
My entire life, more or less, has consisted of feeling excluded. Only the things that I felt excluded from have varied. But feeling excluded is a horrible, terrible thing that can mark a person for life.
Consider if you will the feeling that everyone around you, even those who profess to be in the business of helping you, wants to keep you locked out of the world until the day you die. Would you be able to live with this? Especially knowing that there appears to be no way at all to escape this?
So for a while, I am not going to have anything to add here. I am sorry, but there it is.