A Poem

Today
a friend asked me
if I were a psychologist
and/or psychiatrist

I said yes
For those who are like me
Is that who I am?
I suppose so
I do not mind

So, the verse comes from reading Xenocide and Children of the Mind again (Ender series), and the thoughts refer to a conversation from early this morning (and when I say early I mean continued from last night until 12:30 AM). Out of respect for the nature of the conversation I’m not going to go into detail, but this question (about being a psychologist) did come at the end of the conversation. I was doing psychoanalytic-type stuff.

I’m not a typical person, that’s for sure. I’ve always been closer to understanding those who don’t fit into society than a lot of people, whether it involves autism (The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time), being “godspoken” (Xenocide, minus spoilers), or just one of the people at school who doesn’t seem to fit in.

You know why? Cause I can see that I could have very easily been just like them, even am like them. Especially in the past, if things had gone differently in middle school and high school. And even saying “them” isn’t right, because some of “them” are my friends. People.

And I really can’t stand to watch people suffer/hurt themselves/whatever. I may be a meddler, but at least I have good intentions. For some people I don’t know what to say, but for the people like me, I feel like I should do something. Because, whatever else may be, I understand.

me: I am for those like me

me: because I can't understand normals

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