Unspoken

Unspoken (Watty Awards 2011)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictiously, and any resemblance to acutal persons, living or dead, buisness establishments, events, or locale is entireley coincedental.

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I am trapped. I have been for thirteen years. My name is Emma and I am autistic. It all happened when I was two. The doctors were worried and apparently I was considered autistic.  It doesn’t make me different, no. I mean I’m thinking this and I sound perfectly normal right?

But that’s just the problem. The word thinking. I can’t speak. I haven’t been able to since I was two. And when I was two, the only words I could say were simple things like mom and dad. They called me autistic. I guess they were right. Any normal kid at the age of fifteen can talk on their own. Everyone except for me. My mom has taken me to more doctors than you can ever imagine. She's read more books and done more research on my disease than any parent ever could. She has tried special diet, supplements, drugs and various therapies. She has prayed for guidance and asked for discernment on how to help my body and behaviors. Oh yes, has she tried everything to help my behavior.

Stop telling her all I need is a spanking. If spanking would stop all this, my mom would gladly exchange my disability for a spanking. She knows better than all of you. What I need to help me and what we both need is your understanding, not ignorance.

But most people this day and age are ignorant. And that’s the problem right there. I swear they treat me like I’m an idiot. Do they think I can’t hear them? Do they think I’m blind and I can’t see the looks? Do they think I’m dumb just ‘cause I can’t speak? I can tell you this; I’m just as smart as the others. I have just as much potential. The problem is no one can see that potential when I can’t say a thing.  So I’m just the girl in the back. That’s right, I go to normal school, too. I do normal things. I go to class, and I don’t usually get special treatment from teachers.

But does that matter to the others? No of course not. I’m still the weird one. “That girl.” I sit alone at lunch every day. I walk alone in the hallways. Well, you feel sorry now, but what’s the point? I can’t carry on a conversation, I can only listen. And trust me, if you could listen to what comes out of your mouth, it would get annoying to you after a few days. I can never voice my opinion about who I think is cute, or weather I like that dress of hers. I just sit in the background, only myself to keep me company.

I just want to be accepted and understood. No blamed and ashamed, I want to be appreciated for my gifts. I do have some if you look more closely. I want to be cared for as a person. I want you to care, even when I act like I don't. I want to be respected, just like you do. I want you to respect my mom and dad for all the hard work they have done to help me try to lead a normal a life as possible. I want you to respect my family and all the struggles we have to endure because of our love for each other. I want to be loved like any other child. And need you to role model respectful behavior so they can follow your lead. There’s strength in numbers, I need you to help them learn that. I don’t want you to be afraid of me like the others. I want a chance. And I’ll fight for it.