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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1669820-brown-eyed-boy
by Samuel
Rated: E · Other · Emotional · #1669820
... on the perspective on a young girl who is in the autism spectrum.
Before the actual writings I would like to explain a couple of things. This is written from the perspective of someone who is in the autistic spectrum, while it does not come out clear in this piece of writing (it is much more clear in my other ones) it does change the meaning somewhat. The many (many) sentence fragments and lack of capitalizations are intentional for this very reason, this is her thinking. We don't think in proper grammar, so it seemed better to write it this way.

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lunch period. im sitting alone. same as yesterday. same as the day before. a brown eyed boy walks towards. i pay no mind, he will keep walking. he stops. he asks be why i have no food. i tell him im not hungry and my stomach growls at the wrong moment. i blush. he laughs.

a paper bag goes down and a sandwich comes out. he offers me half. he smiles. i blush again. my heart races as i extend my hand to accept. i eat lunch for the first time in three years. i have a crush for the first time ever. everything feels good. but im scared. it must be a trap i tell myself. but i keep going anyway with distant hopes of happiness.

he wants to eat lunch with me again. tomorrow. i look forward to tomorrow for the first time. for the first time, tomorrow isnt a regret waiting to be born. for the first time i hate to go home. he isnt there and he makes me smile. i like to smile. it feels strange on my face. but the strangeness is good.

i go back to lunch after the night and morning pass. he is there. the boy with brown eyes. i smile. he laughs. his laugh isnt mocking. i didnt know laughs could be anything other. but this makes me feel good. better. healthy. i bring him food today. i made it. he eats it. he likes it. and i feel good. i blush. he laughs. he sits closer as the time goes by.

it is friday. i hate the weekends now. the brown eyed boy isnt there away from the school. but then he says something. something i ask him to repeat because my ears were lieing to me. he asks me out. this time he blushes. and i laugh. and i yell in glee. yes.

it is saturday. i sit in a diner. it isnt nice. it will be nice. once he gets here. i sit. i sit. i sit. he never shows. i leave after hours passed.

it is sunday. i want to cry but no more tears will come. i get a phone call. someone i know. someone i dont like. they tell me the boy with brown eyes is dead. a car. it hit him. the walls are suddenly a million miles away. time expands into an infinite period in unbearable crushing on my heart. the tears come again. they come and dont stop. everything hurts. everything is wrong.

it is monday. the brown eyed boy isnt there. i made him food. i want him to eat my food. i want him to say he likes it. i want him to laugh at me blushing. i want to laugh at him blushing. i want him to sit closer to me. i want him to ask me out again. i want too scream in acceptance.

he cant. i cant.
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