10:39pm September 2, 2013

➸ "You don't need this junk. You need a cat.": Impaired

youneedacat:

Some kinds of communication problems are hard to explain.

Sometime around the turn of the millennium, I encountered this person who perfectly embodied a trait that bothered me in a certain autism forum.

She spoke with a sense of brittle frailty. In hindsight, it reminds me of another…

Oh my gosh.
I thought I was the only one who had dimensional meanings to words! I guess because I can’t do any other type of communicating but words, it makes sense. It’s hard because people aren’t careful with their words. Their words lack the richness, the full context of what the words are.
I can’t imagine a world where words were abstract. For me, every single word, every letter, has its place. I feel the words as I write them. They weave themselves from my fingertips. My breathing changes; it picks up and slows down with the ebb and flow of the sentences. Words are like dancing for me; they are movement. They perform. They entice. They inspire wonderment deep inside world’s of shorthand, shortcut, and simplicity.
I can’t fathom any other world.
So, it’s always so jarring to be reminded that what are instruments for, what allow me to be in this human consciousness, the very tools in which I conduct symphonies and dance, is just shorthand to most.
It is a quick representation of ideas.
But for me, the words are the ideas themselves. There is nothing beyond the words.
The words just are.