The Faded Sun

“Was it your voice or another voice that told you to kill yourself?” the stranger asked.

“My own voice,” I whispered from a mouth I could no longer feel.

I brought myself forward in a chair, a purposeful push, only to prove to myself I could move, that my brain synapses fired.  I nodded solemnly in the direction of a blank white space.  There was a stain in the high corner.  I was unable to focus, unable for the first time to pretend.  I had always been able to follow someone, to take the cue from the people around me.  Here I could not.  Here, though I was clothed, I was stripped naked, paralyzed with the thought that there were no answers…

 

The rest of this story can be found in the book Everyday Aspergers