by Will Stanton » Thu Jul 13, 2017 8:10 pm
Will thought for a minute.
"You said, earlier, that you were worried about your girlfriend treating you like you're made of glass. So, maybe you can understand it when I say that...people treat me like I'm..."
He paused again.
"People treat me like I'm other people. People treat me like I'm Joe the mailman or Bonnie the dentist or something; just another regular person, walking up and down the street. Like the same rules apply to me as they do to other people. Like they'd take advantage of me, or that they'd hurt me or that they'd somehow break some unwritten rule that keeps society whizzing on by.
I'm different, and the way I've coped with being different is steering into it. In accepting that I'm different. Not better, not worse, just...different. It took a long time, but, you know, time is one thing I've had plenty of.
And I'm back at square one now, when it comes to other people, but that's OK. I've got all the time in the world.
So if I seem...accommodating, you're basing that on...on a scale which maybe doesn't apply to me so much. Maybe doesn't really fit who I am and what I do. Maybe doesn't really...matter to me as it does to other people.
...That got deep for the music room. Apologies for rambling."