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