I'm an alien. I might not look it, but I am.

Why? You ask.

Why are you human? Is what I would say back.

I'm not normal.

Ever since I was born I knew I wasn't normal.

Over-exaggeration, you say.

No one can remember back to when they were born.

And I'm not saying I can.

My memory works a different way, I don't remember events, I only remember the feeling of what happened.

Have you ever felt alienated?

Maybe at a new school? Maybe at a new job?

Well, think of that feeling, that feeling of being ignored and scared and that what it was like for me. What it still is like.

I'm an alien. I'm not normal.

I see doctors and I see therapists who all say the same thing.

"You're not normal."

I don't get it.

I never will.

Who cares that I like to count the number of times I breathe in a day?

Who cares that I adore the feeling of the being crushed under pressure but scream at the feeling of a gentle caress?

It's not my fault.

I'm an alien.

My species has a name:

Aspergers, or well, Autism as it's now being called.

Since I'm a girl, it's hard to identify me as an alien, since I blend in so well.

Men find it a lot more difficult to infiltrate.

Watch, learn and observe.

I'm not good at Maths but apparently I'm good at writing numbers and drawing characters as though they were mathematical equations.

I'm not good at socialising but apparently I write so well that the characters come alive and have so many emotions, ones that I don't understand.

I don't get it.

I love the feeling of the keys of a keyboard against the tips of my fingers.

It feels...nice.

I do hate it when they yell at me though.

Oh well, the price to pay for pleasure and mental health.

....I wish they would understand.