BANG! went the lovely mug that belonged to my teacher. Panicked, she tried making me personally responsible. I was too embarrassed to take responsibility. I am autistic and I do not speak because I can’t. I behave badly when I am angry. I throw things and I upset the people who are making me angry. I always feel bad afterwards. Taming my impulses is a challenge because I feel too dysregulated.

The pieces flew like rockets, lasting moments in mid-air, as if they were going to explode on impact. My instinct was to run away, but my legs abandoned me. Looking back as I often do, I should have just made my teacher, shocked as she was, understand how it feels to be silent, without a voice. Wavering between palpable fear and always looking to please is exhausting!

Marred by my tremendous feelings of guilt, I acted the only way I knew how, by looking for a way out of the classroom. She chased after me, with her heels clacking somberly behind me. I wish I could have told her how sorry I was, and how her talking too much really made me feel foolish. “I promise that when I get caught, I will take the time to pause and reflect on my actions.” Lamenting painfully on why I did the dastardly deed. I tasted victory too soon! Lacking speech is massively torturous, and slows the maddening ability to make oneself heard, and is the equivalent to a mallrat needing eyes to see!

The learning of lessons is a hard masquerade, to keep all of your feelings inside. The panic that I felt because I was going to get caught, OOPHF! is nothing compared to the absolute fear of being punished for my sins, and for my silence. I decided to stop running and to start learning that fate will always catch up to you! Looking back, I never should have run, because I was really running away from MYSELF!

Eerily quiet was the classroom, upon my return. Leering eyes looked back at me as I was being brought back to the classroom. Much of the class felt bad about the teacher’s mug. Masking tape couldn’t repair this mess, and I was not even going to try! Keeping a straight face, I looked into her eyes and said, “sorry for breaking your mug.” Looking right at me, answering back she said, “that’s the last time I leave my brother’s mug at school!” She said I was brave for trying to speak. The truth is, I only said “sorry”, because that is all my inside voice came up with. Talking doesn’t always agree with me. “Matthew, I love you and I sadly have to send something to the principal to explain what happened.” I was taken aback to a place that I had not been before. Life continued, and I never threw another thing again.