Perfection is always fleeting

Adriana Ivanoff, Staff Writer

When I hear the word perfection, I only feel fear for my mistakes knowing that scientists and others would say I was born as one. I know that I’m something more but some people never tend to see it. I’ve never seen the perfect achievable grace that everyone wants. I only see the great divide that suffocates the difference inside.

We live in a society that wants us to breathe without air, to be human yet never take a wrong step. It’s an insanity that people follow blindly, accepting it, when in reality it is a death sentence for the mind of an entire generation, numbing the voice of the world.

How sad is it that we have billions of people in the world yet personalities are stereotyped and labeled down to under 10.

I’ve learned the various degrees of hate from being autistic, to terrify me from ever making a mistake. Each person with a disability has experienced an act of cruelty beyond the comprehension of those who have everything they often live without. Sometimes the worst cruelty is in the act of our own fate.

There are no words that they can say when someone who cannot walk has someone else run around them. When they spend their lives dreaming of being able to take a few steps. You could never know the ache within the blind person’s heart when the hear someone off in the distance say “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.” That unparalleled agony fails to translate into words as there are none that can reach deep enough.

You can’t imagine what it’s like for someone to discover their life will be shortened by decades and have to discard their dreams of being able to grow old, of imagining that they are that 80-year old couple who still dance together.

The autistic spectrum has another fate which most cannot comprehend, imagine loving so deeply that you feel life for the first time, the chaotic and equally harmonic thrall that makes you breathe as if you never had before, and yet by mistake push them away with a single word and never knowing why.

I hide that label because I know when people hear it they change.

Their stance becomes awkward and their eyes harden, becoming more distant as they try to figure out how to treat you. Their words sound as if speaking to a toddler slower and more concise in the simplest of terms. The smiles you see become a plaster of the true mold-fake, crumbling until they fall off.

There is a false kindness that penetrates all things in a sense that can always be detected and hurts to be around from the lack of sincerity. The last and most unforgettable thing is the laughter, as you are called dumb behind your back, as others mock you within ear shot and don’t know how to respond other than ignore them.

The first lesson in being disabled is being taught that you are half of whatever they are.

We look into another’s eyes searching for the depths of their souls so that we may know them before any words. We are already searching for who they are in the first few moments.

We study people from the distance, watching how the react to things, because we know better than to judge on appearance or first impressions.

We are afraid of being treated different but are always aware of the 50/50 chance of being hurt, so we develop our opinions and perceptions of people over a long period of time. The people in our lives are in every detail of our world as we know that there are those who have the power to completely destroy us or save us from the crushing weight of loneliness of having every word fail, of our bodies that fail our hearts, and minds that fail the spirit of our souls.