QueerHedgehog

My name is Andrew. I’m 12 years old. I have autism. This is my story. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been different. My mom has told me so many times. Kids would make fun of me because I couldn’t say words the way they could. Sentences that would seem right in my mind would get jumbled and come out all messed up. I’d try over and over to say something simple, but I would end up getting frustrated and crying. Mom would make sure to hug me every time because she knew how hard it was for me. They also made fun of me because I would always carry a crayon case. Anywhere I went, I had to have this thing around me. Mom

"Ella no puede hablar," says the cafeteria worker. She can't talk. This is false, but the young woman has learned to point to what she wants, instead of repeating herself over and over, uselessly ejecting quiet words again and again from her sparrowlike body. Her food is always the same: pink yogurt. Fruit crepe, strawberries, banana. A muffin, if she's hungry after that.She sits down and rocks stiffly, her back hitting the soft padded booth behind her. Wham. Wham. Wham. She sits in the same enclosed corner every time; the same seat, if possible. She wears thick headphones with the song of the day on repeat. Wham. Wham. Wham.She has heard sni

Tonight (Sol) "The thing is, what Mx. Ramirez is saying makes sense," Baba is saying. "They pointed out some of the diagnostic criteria: unusual play, statue-like stillness, shallowness, fixation on social interactions, invasion of boundaries, weak or nonexistent passions, intolerance of others' needs." "That sounds so... negative," Mama replies. "Our son can't be like that. He's different from that girl down the street." Sol can hear the grimace in her voice. "So what if he needs a little social help?" "He needs a lot of social help," Baba says softly. "Do you remember how he behaved at the passion fair?" A week ago (Sol) Angel jumped up

Tonight (Angel) Angel's hands move slowly down the graphics tablet. She enjoys the cool feeling of the smooth plastic against the side of her hand. Her hands are her gateway to the world—tapping each freckle on Baba's arms, feeling the seams on Mama's prosthetic arm, running her hands through Sol's soft hair. Mama says that everyone says "I love you" differently. Angel does it with her hands. Angel bounces up and down on her exercise ball. Angel says "I love you" with her hands. Mama says "I love you" with presents and kisses. She brings Angel beautiful figurines for her setups, and because Angel can't handle kisses on her skin, she k