I don't want to paint a rainbow



I don't want to paint a rainbow with my cartoon pot of instant paint, or pretend I skip when I trip. I don't want to be the one who, halfway through the door, falls back out. I don't want to check where I park my car three times because of the once I forgot

or check, check, check each time I visit because your house looks so much like the others

or feel my way along the fence outside because the one thing I do remember is how the metal pops out into a bobble shape where your gate begins.

I don't want to dance my way through the supermarket and smile happy faces at everyone as if it doesn't matter how my day is going. I don't want to make faces (but I do anyway).

I especially don't want to get the looks that tell me I'm talking with my hands without saying the words out loud.

I don't want the sympathy, the special look, the little smile that says I am being myself and you find it quaint. I might be quaint, I can't help that, but is it so strange?

I don't want to have to explain why my shoulders are not there for your arm.

I don't want comments instead of conversation or criticism playing at being help.

I don't mind if you help me up when I fall over or pick up the things I dropped as I went down. It's fine to laugh with me - I love laughing! It's fine to have a chuckle at my 'little ways' so long as you don't mind me returning the compliment - and telling you what your little ways are.

I do like rainbows, I do like painting, I just get the paint all over myself and then spend days picking it out of my hair. But those rainbows sometimes have to just paint themselves, or be painted by people with smiles for every day.

I don't mind if you cry when you tell me things, so long as I can cry too. I don't mind you asking me why I am crying if I start for no reason. I don't mind cups of tea and a face full of patience. I love it if I don't have to break the silence, but I will anyway.

I don't yearn for perfection or normality. There may be rainbows, or paint, or smiles, tears, spills, falls, laughter and dancing in odd places. And some of it may come from you instead of me.

I yearn for you to be you and me to be me without either of us expecting everyone to be the same.

And in the end I am me, and you are you. And we don't have to paint the rainbow to meet in the middle.

Amanda



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