Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Things people pick up on easily that are “PC,” I get stuck on, questioning them. Where most people can just go with the flow, do things “just because” that’s how they’re “supposed” to do something or act, I have to consciously make an effort to do those things if they don’t make sense to me. People with Asperger’s are quicker to see the lack of logic and even the unfairness in certain rules, which makes it harder to follow them just because they’re rules.
I also do this… start with one thought and then end up somewhere else in my mind entirely, just like I do in conversations too. And while that’s attributed to my ADHD, the ASD is to blame for how I rarely meet people’s eyes. Mine flit around, not focusing on anything in particular because I’m usually looking inward, inside my head. And it’s also to blame for how I’ve never quite perfected the art of initiating and leaving a conversation fluidly. I insert myself when I probably shouldn’t, and I stay quiet when someone might normally speak up. But the latter has more to do with the fact that I don’t have much of a filter and can come off blunt or rude, or even straight-up mean without doing it on purpose. So I’ve learned throughout my fifty years that sometimes it’s better for me to stay completely silent and cut myself off from talking in that moment, until I can really think about what I want to say. Because you can’t un-say things.
This is actually one of my quirks that made my colleagues give me their expert opinion without my asking. I have the ability to literally stab someone—or whip them, pierce them, choke them out, whatever—without feeling bad about it whatsoever if it’s what they want, because I have the knowledge and capability to fix pretty much any physical wound. It makes me sound a little sociopathic, but I just don’t feel empathy when it comes to physical pain. Especially when it’s a masochist who’s begged me for it.
Now, if I accidentally hurt a sub with a miss-swing or by being a bit too rough, I feel what I suppose is guilt, maybe shame that I wasn’t more careful and didn’t read my sub’s cues well enough.
But what sets me apart from a sociopath—someone who has no conscience—is if I wound someone with my words, hurt their feelings, then that’s when I feel bad. Like really, really bad. Because someone’s emotions and mind are so much harder to heal than a physical wound. If I break someone down, I can’t just sterilize them, spread some antibacterial ointment over them, and slap on a bandage. I can’t just prescribe them some medication that’ll take care of it in a week. You can’t take back words once you speak them out loud. You can say you didn’t mean them; you can apologize profusely. But once the other person hears what you’ve spoken, they can’t erase it from their ears and mind.
Which, again, is why I choose to go silent sometimes, so I don’t hurt people. And again with societal norms, “the silent treatment” is classified as either immature or can drive someone crazy if they want to talk something through. With nearly five decades under my belt, being called immature for anything is pretty annoying. But proving to someone my silence is much preferred over what could come out of my mouth always ends up with them in tears or severely pissed off, so I’ve learned to just deal with the annoyance. It feels less shitty than the guilt and shame.
My eyes come back into focus to see my screen has gone dark on my phone, so I tap it and swipe up to unlock it, where the picture of the pretty hippy is still up.
Do I heart her profile?
God, I want to.
But it’s a risk in so many ways. She’s seen my face now. So if we start getting to know each other, she could recognize me out in public. Hell, if she has an emergency, she’d come to my hospital. If she didn’t come across me here, she could at least spot my photo on the wall next to the registration desk. Right now, she doesn’t know my name. I’m only a face and a username with a short bio that doesn’t give anything away.
I could click the minus sign, and she’d never even see my profile again. It would take me out of her search results completely. And unless for some reason she screenshot my picture—which, hell, I don’t even know for sure she’s the one who hearted me—then I doubt she’d be able to pick me out of a lineup just from glancing at my photo one time on a dating app.
But I don’t want to hit the minus sign.