Lonely

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All of my teenage years (I'm now 17, turning 18 in March) I've had very few friends. The summer of 2008 was the best summer of my life. My two friends Asia and Paige were my first best friends. We hungout all summer and ate hotpockets (Which we nicknamed "Twatpockets"; I hope that doesn't offend anyone!

Anyway, now at the end of the road of youthdom, having experienced very little of it in the first place, I look back at the summer before my Sophomore year and cry. No one pays attention to me anymore. Asia's moved to Texas and Paige is going to college at the local community college; but I'm not in her pot-smoking league. I don't really know how to interact with "Normal" people. To be quite honest you could call me a little Kim Il-Sung writing "Revolutionary documents" in my basement. However I'm not a Socialist; I'm a Social Capitalist. I spend most of my time figuring out which political ideals I believe in and which I don't and currently have a 300-page memoir I've dedicated to this pursuit for the last two years. That's what I do for fun. I write essays on political subjects; however little of real established controversy, as I would like to keep my options open as I establish my leadership role in my political career.

But politics is not enough to sustain me I've found. My obsession with politics started in the summer of 2008 for some unknown reason, and since then when I'm depressed I write the most, and often think the most then, too. But this is not a sustainable way of life. I've recently lost my best friend of 5 months who gave me the rude awakening of actually meaning almost nothing to her. "We're not attached at the hip" she said; "And we never were" were Laurel's last sincere words to me. The day before my year-early high-school graduation. I was devastated, and only seconds after waking up that day did I read those words. They broke me.

And yet I sense in my political writings a sense of alter-ego; my identity is within the pages of my memoir which endure no matter what the emotional tornado of my mind wreaks. I'm torn between two selves. The self which is sad and depressed, and which seeks love and acceptance, and the self who has influence over the minds of others with dazzling rhetoric and spectacular oratory and theatrical skills. The first speech I gave, in front of 650 people, I made the audience applaud like no other speaker that day. And it was a roomful of high-school students which makes it all the more surreal.

And yet, even if I can realize my political dream, my personal life is nothing but an empty shell. I have no one to talk to on AIM anymore. No one talks to me on Facebook unless I talk to them first and then most don't talk back. No one wants to deal with me. Nothing.

I'm a politician and a businessman destroyed by his own unrealistic emotional expectations... and... why do people ignore me? Is it so much to expect to not be ignored?

I am decades older than you (in my 40s), and I have a son your age, and still I "get it" completely. I have been very successful academically and reasonably successful in my work (very much so in terms of results, a bit less so financially mostly due to changes in the health care system, but still okay), but my personal life has always been a source of pain and is still so to this day. I know how it is to have one area where you do so well and yet the personal side of your life is a total mess. I hope that better awareness and earlier recognition of AS will help you, because I was just officially diagnosed recently. I wish I had a lot of advice for you, but I'm just starting to muddle through this myself with the knowledge of what "this" is that's kept me from sustaining relationships well.

~Kate

Thank you for your words. I'm glad you found out about you "Condition"; however, I feel that even knowing that I have Asperger's is of little consequence mostly because I've been dealing with my personality traits all my life. Perhaps most of the things I don't pick up on even in my young age socially are things that can be learned. I seem to be good at a speech and a monologue and not so good particularly in conversation. I'm sure we'll both find our own solutions. But Asperger's doesn't define who we are. We do.

I can sympathize with you. I'm feeling the brick wall (or maybe the desert would be a better classification) at the moment.