Beat

They call me neurodivergent,

A meaningless term that only serves to separate, to make special

In a world in which “typical” is a theoretical construct

We all have inner lives, secrets that we don’t show to the world

We all have things that mark us as strange, commonality in the uncommon

I am divergent, but so are we all.

They gave me stimulants

They told me that there was something wrong with me

My ability to concentrate on one thing at a time, they said, was lacking.

How can a human think about only one thing, when trying to avoid oncoming traffic?

How can a man think only about his quarterlies, when he’s also trying to eat lunch?

How can a woman concentrate on doing her mascara when she’s also excited about her date?

We focus on more than one thing at a time, whether we’re aware of it or not

Divergent, because when I do it, it’s a problem.

They gave me soda, instead

Suddenly, there was less wrong with me

My math homework was no less boring

My assigned reading was no less dry

Because they wanted the caffeine to change me, it did.

It didn’t. I had no less chaos in my mind, but I could hide the chaos.

Embrace the chaos.

Vibrating to the frequency of the universe

Dancing to the beat of a drum that only I can hear

Wishing that someone else joins me in this dance, but without hope

They call me neurodivergent.

They call me strange.

Because I hear music and feel the color of it, see the shape of it, taste the depth of it

Because I sing to the tune of a discordant score

Because I experience the beauty of chaos that they do not

They call me neurodivergent.