Autistic person who likes candy here.

I hate everything about this,
Except the color blue
Which is my favorite,
But they didn’t even pick a good blue,
So I still hate it.

I hate how all my life I’ve been
Expected to contort myself into someone
Someone
Someone else’s ideas
Of how my body should stand
Or sit – still, of course –

How my hands should be quiet
When the world around me is so loud
How my face should be less
Honest
More performative

But only to give the performance desired
By the grownups at the door
In the place I was promised candy
And got criticism wrapped with empty
Snickers instead.

I hate how different I’m not supposed to be
Unless the person othering me can
Use my difference to make themselves
Feel same,
And then, by God

Give me that blue pumpkin
That colorful puzzle logo
So everyone knows
I cannot speak for myself
I cannot think for myself
I cannot be for myself
As if I didn’t already know
I was never for myself.

How could I be?
They taught me to be a commodity
For their savior complex
And just sit on my hands
At the back of the room
Quiet
Quiet hands
That

Hold the blue pumpkin
If my frustrated hands
My curious hands
My capable hands
My silenced hands want a reward
For being
Whatever I’m allowed to be this season.