Sunsets For Another Day

The sun sets for another day.
The light of a day, replaced by darkness,
A temporary state of affairs
Before the light of another day.

Before another renewed chance at being.
The mistakes of the past put behind,
The shroud of darkness.

The pink and orange sunrise,
The start of another day.

Goodbye and goodnight to the long darkness of the night.

A renewed day to come,

Reminiscing on the good memories.

Looking through those good moments,

Those meaningful photographs,

The reminder of your smile.

Sunsets into darkness,

To come to another day,

Just as when I met you.

Both of us forging our own way,

Sitting in the kitchen and chatting.

A renewal of being.

A placement of thought.

Ecstatic enthusiasm surrounding.

A totality of feeling.

Holding onto the reminder of those times,

Even as the sun sets yet again,

I go into the night happy,

Looking forward to what the new day brings,

To when I can see you again.

A text to brighten my day,

Wanting to hear about yours.

Until then? Sunsets come and go.

Yet another day is always on the horizon.

My Life with Asberger’s

Imagine living in a world,
One where you are the outcast, an alien.
Where you see lots but cannot speak a word.

You internalise these thoughts, or maybe, they were always from inside and actually unreal outside of your own mind. You start questioning everything, yourself, others, your own physiological functioning.

There is a great difference between the fear and reality, but this is difficult to reconcile, see and remember. I have many friends, of which I am very lucky. But this doesn’t prevent my own mind, sabotaging my efforts, putting my mood down.

In terms of mood, my emotions vary wildly, very wildly within the time it takes for a thought to run through your mind (literally), I can change from a happy mood from going out with friends and feeling so blessed for the amazing people around me. All the way to remembering an awkward moment, or something someone said and it remains with me, I brood and it consumes me.

Asbergers for me isn’t an emotionless or a total inability to understand emotions, I can understand the emotions of friends, and relate. If I see a friend in a crisis I am always happy and there to help, I feel their pain in a semi-literal sense. I continue to help to try and play my part in helping as I know they would do for me. However, helping others hurts, for me, because I feel the sadness, for them, for their situation and it affects me for a long duration from hours to even weeks after the incident.

Asbergers isn’t necessarily about a disconnection with emotion, but a misguided-too-high connection, to feel great pain for them, to want to do anything to help them. It is, at least for me, overwhelming emotion, overwhelming empathy for another.

People always comment on the large number of times I say ‘sorry’, in casual conversation, I say it without even noticing now, like someone may say ‘okay’ or ‘ahhh’. Trying to analyse why I do this, without even noticing, I would guess it comes from my desire to remain within the group, even if there are absolutely no doubts within my head of my place in my friendship group.

Another aspect is my shy nature, I am totally shy, even if I do not show it to close friends, I am constantly thinking of what to say, how, (despite this I still make mistakes). Along with this, I am also very nervous at most times, and find doing new things very difficult. Doing new things always worries me as I overthink of every possible scenario and ways to tackle them, this then makes every decision a very brain-consuming one.


My favourite tv show, Rick and Morty, all of my friends know I am obsessed with it. One thing I commonly say, partially as a joke, but totally meant, is that “Rick and Morty isn’t a tv show, it’s a lifestyle.” Even this isn’t totally accurate, Rick and Morty is life. I so relate to the character of Rick more than anything else:

In a meaningless world, in which I try and try. Everything before your eyes turn to dust. Deeply sad, with occasions when the sadness is hidden. I try my best, I try to bring comfort and care to others (not unlike Rick, but he’s complicated). Rick, is deeply sad.

Even from memory, some examples include: Rick trying to kill himself, Rick sacrificing himself for Morty, Rick’s existential angst and painful existence.

It may be hard to explain, or understand, but even despite the dark bleak nature of existence, as outlined by Rick and Morty, I’m not sad, I’ve been better than I have been in years, however, even happiness doesn’t negate the aspects aforementioned.

Imagine never being able to trust your own perception, living blind, but even with blindness you have your other senses. Imagine having to use others’ as your own are faulty. Yet giving others’ trust over your own perception, your own existence and ability to interact with the world. Even as you find yourself imitating the behaviour of people I am around trying to understand. I am a new person, whenever I am around a different person. These aspects brought me to an existential panic and crisis of identity when I was 12. This hasn’t been resolved, but in the wise words of Rick, that I have to live by, “just don’t think about it”.
This level of trust I place in others, only few others, but still, means I am easily manipulated, (this is difficult) or so I think? Or maybe not? The problem with lacking perception, is that anything you ‘know’, you actually do not.
This only makes the ‘just don’t think about it’ even more relevant.

This post I have been editing for months, it’s not in a coherent order or structure, but a monologue of my being, by lack of understanding. A living I have become used to. Although I would hardly call it that. The perception or lack of, the strong emotions, the (very near) infinite empathy [sometimes in helping others, I even get overwhelmed sadness or happiness depending on their emotions]. There is one word for this existence. Torture.

However, even in saying this, it may sound bleak, I have gotten much better than I had been before, even as I describe it in dark or bleak terms, this living. This is life. Even in my happiness, or even ecstatic joy, this persists, this is existence. And this is why Rick and Morty is a show that resonates with me so greatly, it is life represented in metaphorical cartoon form.

So much more to say, but much of it I cannot even think of.
I think I am much better, but even analysing this, why, it doesn’t necessarily bode well. But I’ll try. There is no choice but to continue. Continue and “just don’t think about it”.


p.s. Even this blogpost was written, the first part in one [worse] state of mind while the second in a much better one, and thus may seen incoherent, quite fitting for the theme of this post, and… my life.


To end, I shall mention some lines I’m thinking of as a tattoo:

Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

This is from Dylan Thomas’ Do Not Go Gentle Into that Good Night. It’s a poem that fills me determination to rage against the emptiness and find myself, find the light, the grab hold, never let go for as long as I can. It also reminds me of times of great sadness, wanting to rage against all that has hurt me and come out on top, to find something for going on. Every emotion I find myself feeling, it always can mean something related to these lines. Finally I shall end, with Dylan Thomas’ whole poem:

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.