Yet…
Maybe we do have to play the cards we’re dealt. Maybe, tho, they change every moment. Discards. Draws. Flipping hidden cards over. Once in awhile, a brand-new deal. Maybe, just maybe, we can only choose a new way to play them. At any moment. When I sat down to this table, I got a handful of black cards… Autism. Anxiety. Attention deficits. Depression. Mania. Selective mutism. Delusions. Hallucinations. Psychotic breaks. Shifting personalities. Undependable skills. Undiagnosable illnesses. Catastrophic decisions. Mockery. Ridicule. A family unable to cope. Isolation. Night terrors… Above all, Loneliness… But I drew just a few others… Uneven genius. A compulsion to create. A gift for words. The drive to love… Tried masking. But that bluff never works. And Life’s one game I never had the balls to just throw a hand in and wait for the next poker night… But, late in the game, with a loaned stake from a loving partner who arrived just in the nick of Time… And just a few weird friends… I’m working on turning this busted flush into something I can leave this game with. Not a jackpot. Just satisfaction. My apologies. I write like a 50s movie voiceover stuck in the wrong century. (Say, Bladerunner?) Drama button permanently stuck “ON.”Note: Thanks to my good, #Neurodivergent friend, Gary Bryers, for the loan of a coupla metaphors…
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