August twenty-eight

Posted: August 28, 2012 in Autism, couch, mr john

I finally came out. You never realize your potential until you do.
Shocked, I was when my friend asked when I would let him read my shit. My shit? I asked inquisitively.
Yes, I saw that you posted that a stranger had read you work. When are going to open up to the rest of us?

Recalling the way I do, I knew exactly what he was talking about, but was very hazy about the rest. I didn’t think that I told anyone about that. Well I did, but it was in conversation with an obscure person.
I told him that I wasn’t ready for full public viewing. Actually I just don’t want my family reading anything until its done. This way they can. It make any corrections and the door will already have swung.
Always do now what you can apologize for later.

He was rather talkative that night. I wasn’t. I was way past my bedtime and I had exceeded my physical capacity for the day.
Earlier that day I received a phone call from this particular friend. Let it be said that I have a pick up truck.
Can you help me move a few things? I’ll need you for a half hour to forty five minutes. Tops.

I knew what that meant. Two hours on my Friday night. I was expecting the phone call. I just didn’t know when, so I had already allotted hell time.
The poor lad was going through a divorce. The ugly part was almost over and now it was slipping into sheer stupidity. Oh well. I would be here for him. He didnt need my advice, for I believe that he is one of the smartest people I know, but sometimes an ear is all one needs to offer.
Five hours later he offered me a meal. I took him up on a frozen yogurt place that I am currently addicted to.
Thus, we got around to his writings and the things he was doing. Good for you, I thought. How much of it was bull, I really don’t care. He always tells a decent story.
He’s better company than me, that’s for sure.
In between my hemming and hawing about going public on Facebook, I told him about an idea I’ve been leaning on. It’s a story about a dad who has an autistic son. Every week this dad brings his son to a therapy session for him to understand his role in this world. As his dad sits in this waiting room, he begins to discover more about himself. He longs for betterment in his life.
Over the years waiting, he has quit smoking and drinking, found peace with his God and found out that he really doesn’t remember his childhood.
He slowly breaks down the walls of his mind and discovers why everything turned out the way it has.

Basically what I am doing here.
I am hopeful now that this will begin to piece together. Now my eyes are closing. The walls are going higher.


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