POETIC PROSE
Autistically, We Soldier On
How to win a War that cannot be won.
Image Edits by Author
You may feel like you’re burning the candle at neither end, and both ends have no wick. Maybe you can’t seem to ignite the light that makes any sense of what, or why this is, or why you, nor anyone else, truly gives a s*** about anything that is you at all.
Maybe that’s true and maybe it isn’t, but never say anything bad about yourself that you don’t want to be true, as the bad that you said may be the final screw that seals you into a self-fulfilling prophetic coffin of someone who you don’t want to become.
The road that you walk may too often feel like you walk alone in the cold Autistic dark – A road that has no end and has no start – A road so twisted that it is not unlike a malicious Möbius strip designed with just you in mind, keeping you stuck and confused in an infinite loop of its evil intent – A road that is lined with all of the signs of an apocalyptic foreboding that the worst is yet to come.
This is the very time that you must go on and never shall stall. Though you may stumble or fall, or albeit that you must walk, run, or crawl, do know that you shall rise again to stand tall and Autistically “Soldier on” through the worst of it all to arrive at a place of solace and calm.
