Spelling Mistakes.

Everyone makes them, some more than others. A simple spelling mistake might seem unimportant to most of the world depending on the context in which it is written, however to me reading a text with spelling mistakes is like trying to read something with random words being on fire, the flames obscure my vision of the rest of the text. I sometimes don’t even notice it until I’ve spent five minutes staring at one word on a full page trying to internally correct it. Often upon noticing a spelling mistake I will feel drawn to it like there is nothing else my eyes could possibly focus on. It doesn’t even have to be something that prevents me from understanding what the word is supposed to be, it could be as simple as someone swapping an ‘a’ for an ‘e’, or spelling out a word as it sounds rather than as it’s written.

Sometimes I will read a single paragraph of a book for hours because there is one spelling mistake in it and I will automatically jump back to the start of the paragraph after reading it in order to try and fix it in my head. Of course I never can, printed ink can’t be changed and I can’t change what other people write in some formats. But what I can do is try to help someone improve their spelling over time, which not only helps me read what they have written but it also helps them appear more outwardly intelligent. At least that’s how I see it anyway, others just think I’m being anal when I correct their spelling but that’s probably because I’ve never told this to anyone.

It would be fine if it didn’t affect the rest of my life but it does, when someone passes me something to read and it has spelling errors I just zone in on them and can’t focus on anything else. Internally I scream in frustration at my inability to read a simple fucking sentence. Others get bored and frustrated waiting for me to read the short paragraph they handed me because they don’t understand why I’m having difficulty when usually I would have read it within ten seconds. It’s something that I actually find very embarrassing, not because others would judge me for it but because they would try and give me extra support for it.

Having been diagnosed with dyspraxia as a child has meant that throughout my life I’ve been given special treatment by my family and teachers to support my learning despite the difficulties I have. It’s more than enough to remind me on a daily basis that I’m not as capable as my peers and no matter how hard I try I never will be. I can’t make my hands do the things that I want them to do. I often can’t turn my thoughts into words. I can’t understand why people believe or do certain things, often causing it to be difficult to socialise with others as I can’t predict how they will react to things I say. A sentence with a single typographical error can sometimes trip me up for an hour or two.

Don’t feel sorry for me, I don’t need pity for this I just need people to understand. When people try to support me with this type of problem it doesn’t help because they don’t understand it, I would explain it to them if I could get the words to form in my mind to do so but they never do. I never asked for support so why do people assume I want it? Much like being alive, I don’t get to opt out even if I never wanted it in the first place.

I guess people reading this might help to some degree but not fully. People still won’t understand where my difficulties come from or exactly what they are because I still don’t know how to put them into words though at least people might stop trying to give me special treatment for things that they don’t know how to help with.

The Cage That Doesn’t Hold Me.

Why is the cage here? Who made it? Who is it for? Why can I bypass it?

These are all questions that until a moment of clarity last night I could not have answered.

There I was, sat out on the deck watching the coals of the barbeque slowly burning. I looked up at the stars and smiled to myself. You’re always reaching for them. Striving to one day leave the ground behind you. If only you would look down for just a second to see that I’m there, waiting patiently to lift you to the beautiful night sky.

Except you won’t. Even if you did you wouldn’t see me there, the door is closed and I’ve shut myself in. You don’t know to look for me because I’ve locked myself away from you and restrained myself so that you won’t feel the pain of knowing how I feel about you.

The cage is here to keep the people I care about away from me.

I made it so that I don’t drag others down here.

It’s for the people around me, to keep them from hurting themselves to save me.

I can bypass it because I knew I would need to come into the light in my own time.

But I can’t. The bloody black dog is still here waiting to sink its teeth in. Where will be next? My wrists? Or will it be somewhere I can hide the scars? I can never know until it happens.

And so I stay here. Waiting for the dog to be gone. Every time I try to leave it only hurts more. The door seems further away now, almost as far from me as you are. Or is it me who has gone deeper into the darkness? I wonder how far I’ll fall next time I try to leave.

Yesterday I tried to tell you, and you were there to listen but I couldn’t do it. Today I don’t think you would hear me even if I said it. I saw a picture of you today and tried to whisper to it so that somewhere in my heart I would know I could say it.

I love you.

Opening the Door.

I opened the door today. I took off those shackles and walked between the bars of that cell which, now I think of it was not made for me.. The dog wasn’t there, or if he was I couldn’t see his warped figure. I braced myself and flung open the door.

You were there waiting for me on the other side with a smile. I was mesmerised. I wanted to run to you, to hold you, to tell you how I feel. I wanted to express what I’ve kept hidden for so long regardless of the potential consequences.

I tried to tell you but my mouth seized up. I tried to run but my legs wouldn’t move, when I looked down the shackles were back on me. That’s when I heard it. The growling. The dog was lurking somewhere in the darkness. Creeping closer. Drooling in anticipation.

I slammed the door shut. There was no way I was going to let the dog out there where you are. In the last light from the outside I saw the teeth glint like knives before they took hold of me, dragging me back to the cell. Tearing my skin and flesh. I could feel the dog sapping my life.

All of this because I tried to tell you.

All of this because I need you to know.

All of this because I love you.