Poor Zeph exhibited all of the classic symptoms of Asperger's Syndrome. Her tragic and totally involuntary inability to socialize or be nice to people or not be fat was as inescapable as her love of Hanzo steel. Two goons, lat and Purely Political, wanted to know how Zeph Mercurial came to her diagnosis of Asperger's.
|I was diagnosed at age 13 at the local TEACCH center, and again when applying for Social Security aid.|
My parents believed I had autism back when I was eight. They took me to the TEACCH center, but the diagnosis was inconclusive. After a few years of misdiagnoses and going through hell with the ass-backwards school system here, ending up in classed with kids that got arrested at age 12 and the like, me being suicidal at age 13, etc. we got tipped off about Asperger Syndrome by my school counselor who I talked to every week. After some more wrangling with the school system we finally got a positive diagnosis.
In short, I did not diagnose myself.
One of the tragedies of Asperger's Syndrome is that health professional are often reluctant to accept a self-diagnosis. This is changing, thankfully, as more and more people bravely come forward with their self-diagnoses and demand the respect they deserve for their laziness and hostility and love for anime and videogames.
The goons interacting with Zeph struggled to understand her condition. One user, by the name of palmdryer, was particularly forward and cruel.
|There's a good chance you may not really have Asperger's but instead just shitty parents or excuses.|
First of all, get off the internet and don't take it seriously. You can't trust advice if you don't know what the person behind the other screen looks like, who they are, etc.
Next, learn to take life less seriously. Maybe be willing to drink and party too, who knows
One of the cruelest aspects of Asperger's Syndrome is that those without the affliction have difficulty understanding the perspective of those with the illness. Zeph Mercurial does her best to explain, despite the obvious hostility of people like palmdryer.
Her concerns about drinking are well-founded.I have this problem significantly less on the Internet for exactly that reason. I don't see the face or hear the voice of the person who I'm talking to. I only see their text.
That seems to help a lot for some reason since I can't form any biases about them based on appearances, or if they have a strange accent/appearance, etc.
Also, I live in the middle of nowhere with one car my parents alternate between for work. Even if I did have a driver's license I wouldn't have use of the car for enough time to actually get out and do something.
I'd be willing to drink and party, except...there's nobody around to party with. And if I get drunk, I'm worried I'd get taken advantage of. And if I end up pregnant from getting raped while drunk and comatose, there's a 98% chance I would be suicidal if I couldn't immediately get an abortion.
I'm also under 21 so I don't want to risk getting caught drunk in public.
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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