How was I to explain the nature of mi relationship with words? They were more mysterious to me than the cosmos and yet they were the only way people were to understand me. They were suppose to be the way to attach meaning to everything but to me they were meaningless. Just random sounds that I had to pretend to use to convert thoughts and ideas. And at the same time I could more readily understand a infant or animal that had no “speech”. Or later deaf people who used movements. Music and color spoke more to me than the noise coming from human vocal chords. But they were suppose to be the only aceptable and understandable way to communicate with the vast majority of people. Granted I never felt the need to communicate very much to begin with. People were mostly irrelevant to me. Aparentemente this wasn’t natural or good. It was a problem that I was quiet and withdrawn. Somehow it translated that I must be emotionally disturbed most likely depressed and that was the cause of mi isolation. In fact it was quite the opposite. I was content enough alone and only reached out when I needed something. Written language was a bit different. The days I could focus I was fascinated by thier shapes. Alone I could easier take them in and make some sort of sense. But to make then aloud was to ruin the magic. To think about it made it stop. Oh sure I learned to mimic well enough. But that was more survival and smartness than real understanding. Which is part of why I never could express mi wants, sensations, or desires. That would require genuine understanding of words to think of them alone. There in lay one of mi biggest downfalls. With no way to explain myself everyone else was left to figure me out. I could only agree with whatever they through at me. I mean sure I could try to say no but they were the ‘experts’ who could access mi actions or so they were convinced. Don’t get me wrong I knew I was different if I really thought about-which was rare. But I didn’t see anything wrong per se. I’m sure most went well enough but thier wrong thoughts about me shaped mi life and many negative emotions and events. Almost every negative thing I experienced was due to something induced by people. They created a self fulfilling prophecy. By assuming I was miserable they did actions which made me so. I was just the silent Guinea pig. Survival taught me to be passive at a young age and so I allowed this torture as I did most abuse throughout mi life. I almost did get electric shock therapy. Not everyone meant bad. Yet the road to hell is often paved with good intentions.