CHAPTER THREE

ALYSSA

I wish I wasn't so screwed up. On the inside, words and thoughts swirl around that would impress all of my teachers but they come out sounding like a four year old thought them up. I know I have a disability, but does it seriously have to make me feel bad about myself?

My name is Alyssa Neva. My friends call me The Comic Relief's Girlfriend, considering the fact that my boyfriend, Derek, is an all-around class clown. I guess I'm blessed that I even have a boyfriend or friends. My disability makes me sound and act like a klutz. At least I'm not like that loser Essence who sits alone all the time. What an idiot.

When I was little, I spoke the same way I do now. My dad didn't start getting worried about it until I was ten. He took me to the doctors. I was told that I have autism there. I cried a lot that day. Nothing my dad did would cheer me up.

I love learning and going to school. For me, it's always fun to learn new things. I'm limited, though. The teachers at my school put me in the ASD Room, where I learn with the other autistic kids. I have a majority of my classes in there, with only three of my classes in the normal classrooms. I have an aide that accompanies me, so I'm not all that free. She always tells me that since I'm different, I have to be "monitored". What a jackass.

The only time Miss Dumbass isn't up in my face is during lunch, passing time, or in the morning when I arrive at school. I can see my friends, terrorize Essence, you know, the usual.

When I can, I go to the library and check out Jane Austen or Nathaniel Hawthorne books. Another personal favorite of mine is Charles Dickens. I read till late at night, when even my father and brother have gone to bed. After I've finished a book I write about it in my journal. There's a feeling of satisfaction it brings me. A feeling that nobody cares about my autism or the way I talk or any of the problems I'm supposed to have. Reading also distracts from the fact I'm a Manipulator.

It's kind of like carrying around a dime bag of pot and then walking into a room full of relatives who think you're "the good child". You've got a secret you're keeping 24/7 and being exactly who everyone thinks you are.

I have a brother. His name is Eric. He is overly protective of me. He is the only one who knows I'm a Manipulator. Oh, you thought I was gonna whine about him being a frigging ass? Who are you, a reporter? Wanting to learn about my life? Lemme tell ya something. YOU ARE A JACKASS. Deal with it.

I want to live, but, I think sometimes it's not worth it. Why should I? Why should people suffer when others live the good life? Why should some live with disabilities when others have nothing bad about them? Why does this disability define who I am, limit me, and hold me back? I shouldn't let it do this to me, but it's all I want to do.

Some days it feels like Derek isn't even there for me! Like he just says 'I love you' to say it. No meaning behind it whatsoever. My dad is always busy, Mama is dead, and my only friends think of me as a joke.

Why are some people different than the rest? Why does it need to be like this? Why was I born like this?

I just want some love, some appreciation. I want to be normal.