This one's dedicated to all my fellow neurodivergent folk who, like me, have been struggling their whole lives with the supposedly simple act of "making conversation".
Lyrics
I throw myself head-first into a sentence
Though I have no idea how it’s going to end
My words come out so strangely strung together
I say things I can’t begin to defend
You end up seeing me from so far away
Looking through the wrong end of a telescope
Why do I sabotage every chance at being known
Should I just give up hope?
Or could I hand you a person on paper
A conversation rehearsed
A path that I’ve walked down already
For better or worse
I’m not sure how to live in live action
I can’t seem to keep up to speed
To make of myself a person on paper
Is what I need
Do I dare to set out on a mapless journey
Hang an unfinished canvas from the mast
Let the wind blow me full of chance and mystery
Unseen currents flow so fast
My ship cuts a line across the water
Writing on the blank page of the sea
I can’t know beforehand what Providence will print
But I hope the words come from me
To exist as a person on paper
What a picturesque, falsified fate
A life of being filtered through stained glass
I can’t contemplate
But the other way is messy and painful
I try and I fail every day
Must I be a person on paper
Or can I be a person of earth and clay?
