When I was little, I was a bit of an odd fish. I never made friends easily. I was always picked on. My interests were anything but typical for either a boy my age or an adult even unless one was a professor. My mother had me assessed by a child psychologist, who quickly slapped the extremely high functioning Aspergers label on me. While mum I think wanted to understand me because she loved me and worried about how I'd grow up, one thing she did in the process of that was make it publicly known to my teachers, family members, her friends. While for her, a label gave her an answer, for me it was like it slapped me with a huge burden like as though I were mentally challenged, and I've never forgotten that. It stings. My sister and dad treated like shit because of it. Fast forward the clock, I'm now in my late 20s, I live on my own, I have a job of my own where my strange talents and personality are put to great use, I did up until May have a phenomenally forgiving and loving girlfriend, and poor old mum... unfortunately died from cancer. It took me years to ever admit what I had, by myself, to only one person. Things haven't come easy for me, and while I'm out to lunch more often than not, I wish I should show her and those who thought of me as a freak how strong I turned out. Yes, I need time, help, patience sometimes because I process my world differently from others and generally fly solo. When I'm alone with my own thoughts, I can get scared, be irrational, or just experience the same feelings everyone else has on everything from romance to grieving. I'm far from perfect and I'm sorry to those who my sometimes Picasso paining-like logic has either unimpressed or broken the heart of, but for what it's worth, please let me be me. Guide me and get to know me but don't give up on me. It may take me a bit to reach my potential in the colourful way with which I go about life, and sometimes I'm a bitch to deal with, but give me a chance (or two, or three) and you won't regret it.