hell is a real place

Page Five

saturday 26 april 2008 greenfield

in his play no exit, jean-paul sartre says that hell is other people. for me at least, people have always been more hell than heaven. I'm nervous, frightened and irritated around people, even people I like. I think this is part of the asperger's-autism thing to some degree, because I was always like this, even before there were repeated traumas and more traumas in my life. PTSD on top of asperger's makes for much-increased anxiety, even fear, around people. nature, animals and the arts were always the places where I wasn't bored, or irritable, or afraid.

but there's another thing that hell is, too. when your whole life and identity are ripped away from you. your private space, your belongings, and the ones you love. and let us not forget that I have the department of mental health here in greenfield to thank for this hell I live in: the people who were supposed to care, and to help.

I've always been a questioner. it's the kind of brain I have, I guess, always wanting to know why and wanting to figure things out. this is another quirk I've taken a lot of criticism about. nonetheless, I have always wanted to know why. if people find me so strange and hard to be around, why don't they just leave me alone and let me be weird? why do they so often take a sadistic pleasure in actively hurting me?

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