Confession

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There is a gradual fading of phone calls by me and to me (of course the two facts are connected).
I don’t see anybody anymore. My confession of being autistic (in a semipublic way) has had the effect of destroying any relational tissue around me. Is it the way the confession has been made? Certainly nobody knows how to deal with someone who declares to be autistic. Were I more articulate, rich in imagination and fantasy I would have found a some more oblique fashion and a better reception. If anything I would have been appreciated for some literary quality, for humor (gallows humor is the last resource for people like us, but I am inept at humor). When I post something in a blog or in a site, I lapse in the horrible didacticism of the “little professors” (in the double sense of the aspies and of people who have been like me a professor in all their life, though a complete failure as a professor). It may seem conceit, but I know that I know and understand much about life. But it’s all inarticulate. Being autistic I have little or nil capacity to communicate what I know and understand. I am not pleased of this. I am no genius, and consequently I am no Kafka or Beckett, though I am sure that there are many people in my condition.

I recommend reading Kafka's The Burrow.

Being tired and being late in the night I leave it at that.

It's always good to read your posts here, paolo. You have a rather unique and pleasing style that I assume is related to English not being your first language. What you write has depth, and often provokes much thought. It's unfortunate that you feel you are unable to communicate as effectively, IRL.

Maybe its the subject matter in your post, not sure, or perhaps its writing versus speaking, but you seem highly articulate to me. I am much more articulate in writing than I am in person, and you do have a unique and pleasing style.

Yes, I also like your style of writing very much Paolo. You often manage to comunicate what I myself have felt, or feel, but don't have the ability to put into words. Your posts enrich the forum.

I think that post indicates a person who anyone with any tolerant bones in their body would consider a good friend.

The people who are leaving you behind never were true friends. Don't feel you lost anything. And you'll have friends in here for sure. That might not be the same thing - granted - but it's better than nothing at all.

Thank you all. I am no so much blaming undeserving “friends”, as myself for having had little judgment in establishing relationships and in choosing the course of my life. But all this was also inevitable. I had to run, run all the time, with fatigue and little lucidity, as happens when you have to flee. So the only thing I can say is that I was in the position of an escapee from prison chased all the time by cops or other people.

But if I might give and advise to all people here this would be to take a place to hide in order to think. Don’t accept the inevitability of accepting something which seems “normal”: a profession exacting all your efforts, a marriage absorbing you real nature, friendships just faux de mieux . It may not be quite clear what I mean, but I will try to explain further. When you enter compromises you should know that compromises exact a price on your soul, where soul has perhaps something to do with what theologians mean, but not entirely: you might say, better, inner integrity (not purity, for God's sake) but a kernel where to survive in some form of authenticity.

According to the legend Alexander the Great went to visit Diogenes, who was in his barrell, but all he obtained from Diogenes was an invitation to keep clear of the sunshine.