Somewhere On The Spectrum

Somewhere on the Spectrum

Occasionally he would feel a surge of panic rise up in his chest.

Something would catch hold of his thoughts momentarily.

He could feel his chest seethe .

At night he would sit up in the pitch dark

looking at screen saver  until it blinked out

And he would  be in perfect darkness.

Darkness seemed to make more sense than other things.

It was as though he was experiencing a centrifugal force

hurling him away from the centre of things,

A force to which he held on tenaciously

for reason  he could not explain.

Inside his head he could not tell if he cared or just pretended to.

He performed tasks meticulously for no particular reason.

He stood outside himself, observing , detached .

As though he was a  store front window

Filled with things he had no interest in buying.

He could be the life or death of the party.

He had no investment in how he was perceived

He was possessed of a yawning hollowness

From which he chose not to escape.

He could not remember the faces of

the people he had murdered

Or whether it was just a dream

His had put existence on  mute

He existed as a parasite within his own incarnation.

It was thought that he was somewhere on the autistic spectrum.

He viewed the world as a chocolate croissant. Some days

He could smell it , but not taste it. Other days he could taste

But not smell.

The phrase is used high functioning often because he worked

, had a family, and mingled reasonably well .

Within his own head however , he could never tell if he actually

Cared, or just pretended he did. There was within him a yawning  hollowness

For some reason he did quite well on job application tests.

He knew what they wanted. He just didn’t connect with why it was important.

He performed tasks meticulously, but not for any particular reason , but it seemed he was always standing

Outside himself, detached, observing , indifferent to outcome.

He was, periodically, obsessive compulsive mostly around matters

Of little consequence.

Occasionally this behaviour bled into matters of consequence however

This was always incidental. As mentioned he felt no particular connection with outcomes.

He was meticulous in his business affairs,

Hatred action movies and loathed  idle chat.

He felt alone regardless of how many people he found himself amongst.a

He could be the life or death of the party.

He had no investment  in how he was perceived .

Occasionally he would feel a surge of panic rise up in his chest.

Something would catch hold of his thoughts momentarily and

He could feel his chest seethe .

At night he would sit up in the pitch dark  looking at screen saver

On his computer until it blinked out and he would attempt to  discover himself  in perfect darkness.

Darkness seemed to make more sense than other things.

It was as though he was experiencing a centrifugal force that

Was hurling him away from the centre of things. A centrifugal

Force to which he held on tenaciously , even  for reasons not entirely obvious.

Are these in some instances at least, the raw materials that go into creating

A contract killer, a serial murderer, or a soldier or apex predator.

Or , maybe erotic, or filial love can not co-exist with agape love.

Perhaps much of what we call love is mere sentimentality. A soap opera

Of emotions established in trivia like sex appeal, money and good looks.

Perhaps one dissolves the other . Perhaps it confuses the heart. Ed

It has been suggested there exists individuals who have no soul.

They are neither good nor bad. They simply become what they are around.

Emotional parasites or maybe it is symbiotic,…. They are us.

Derek Earl Houghton