INTJ

Very expressed introvert
Moderately expressed intuition personality
Distinctively expressed thinking personality
Moderately expressed judging personality

Autism Spectrum Quotient: 33

When we talk, I can’t look you in the eye. It’s nothing personal, I just can’t think about what you’re saying and what I’m trying to say while looking at your face. I lose my train of thought. My mind wanders. I watch your lips move and your eyes blink and I wonder how we developed language. What were humans’ first words, and how have our mouths evolved over the ages? And so I look toward some imagined horizon because there are fewer distractions there.

You have to give me a second. If I we meet each other on the street, I can’t place you right away. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s me, unable to move you from your previous context into this new one. It’s me, unable to adjust my train of thought and my series of actions. It’s me, concentrating, literally, on putting one foot in front of the other, figuring out the best route to my car, wondering whether or not I’ve forgotten anything. It’s me, trapped inside my mind.

Please forgive my awkward moments. When I say things that hurt your feelings, I’m only speaking what I think is factual, and there is no good or bad, only outcomes. Don’t start crying. Please don’t start crying. I can’t think fast enough to comfort you and will stand dumbfounded, my arms hanging at my sides. I will wonder what went so horribly wrong, so suddenly. I need the reason first, then empathy can follow.

I don’t know why fiction chose me. I have a tough time with emotion and intent. They seem crucial to the art.

Yet I have lucked and stumbled into a great life: I have a home, a job, two wonderful kids, a fantastic wife and no black lung. I have hobbies and fresh air and oranges grow in my back yard. Oranges! There is a skate park near my house. I recently spent $60 on art supplies.

This is my favorite self-portrait ever.