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  • 11 months later...
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Let me share a story, it'll help to pass the time.

I had four paper bags with empty pawn cans, thirty in each (15 stacked in two layers). After getting off the bus, I put them between my legs to check the time. The wind direction suddenly shifted and 10 seconds later, while I was watching as in trance, about 140 cans had blown/rolled down on the main street through the town, some bumping back on the high curb on the other side.

One car had already driven over some cans and other cars was stopping behind it. Then this old man standing next to me said probably the worst thing you can say in that situation: "I sure hope you're going to pick that up". Which I of course was planning to do, but his comment pushed me over the line.

So I just walked away, trying to look moderately interested like everyone else, and pretended that I had nothing to do with it.

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  • 2 months later...

I have autism, some other diagnose that I've forgotten, and social phobia (but I'd rather call it social incompetence), so about 500 meters from my home I lose all confidence and feel like I'm left to the wolfes. The story is that I discovered that a local pizzeria had open to 22 on saturdays, instead of normally 21.

I threw on some clothes, went there, and three/four outdoor tables had pretty drunk companies at them. As usual I just wanted to disappear, but you gotta do what you gotta do, so I changed to plan B: get in fast, get the taco roll and walk out the other entrance.

Too fast. I stumbled on the last staircase step of four (perhaps unconsciously as a protest), my head took the blow from the wooden wall and I ended up in a sitting position right outside the entrance. I slided on my b-tt, with the help of my hands, to end up on the right side of the stairs, where I didn't disturb anyone.

Two guys from the nearest table, probably fuddled, seeing their change to play inspector gadget and impress on the ladies, came up and said "can we help you in some way"? No, of course they didn't, they said "but you can't sit here", insisted to lift me up on my feet (unsuccessfully since I weigh close to 150 kg) and asked for my address,

So I said: Listen... stop stressing me and give me five minutes to catch my breath again, and I'll fix this, don't worry, no problem. He said OK, went back to his table, got his phone out... and called the police. I went in, payed my food, and met the police halfway home, but what could they do?

I had no trouble walking straight. But if I was still sitting there when they arrived, or leaning against a wall with my two hands to rest when they drove by, I'd probably slept in a jail cell that night. So what's the point of the story? Nothing. As an autistic person, I'm always a few steps behind, often more.

Jesus helped me with the timing though. When he knew that it was time, he gave me the "oh, h-ll no, I'm not risking six more months in forced, locked up rehab" feeling. You can fake this energy yourself by putting some wood on the fire of sins inside you. I prefer that safety, even if I'm called a liar and have to crucify Jesus daily, rather than having a very, very strange relation with an almighty god.

I hope that you have a nice week.

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