A boy named Damien is rumored to have autism. His parents, his doctors, his friends, all believe he is autistic. This is a world where uniqueness is considered unwelcome and unacceptable. Damien is not necessarily autistic, but rather "different." He doesn't talk very much because he claims he likes to listen and that most often, he "lives" in his thoughts. He is very creative, though and has profound thoughts. No one realizes this because he rarely talks. One day, though, he meets a girl (who also believes he's autistic), but she talks to him a lot. One day, she stops talking for a second, and he asks her a question. "Have you ever felt like your life was a film?" She is startled. She is speechless; she thought he was mute. "Well, here...if your life was a film, what kind do you think it would be?" He doesn't look at her, just sort of stares into the distance. She thinks a little, still stunned. "I'm not sure, maybe a drama? I have a lot of drama going on in my life...but its kinda funny sometimes too...I don't know. Like a combination of comedy and drama...?"
She is unsure if this is the kind of answer he wanted, though, because he doesn't acknowledge that she's said anything, or even that she is there and he asked her the question in the first place. She decides to leave, but before she gets up, he continues. "Everyone says that, but no one's life is the same. I think maybe mine is some kind of arthouse film. It's very strange and has some sort of deep significance, but every film has some meaning. Every life does too."
The girl looks a little irritated because she is not sure what to say or how to respond to his words. She picks up her back-pack and stands up. "I-I don't really like movies..." She walks away without looking back.
Back at home, Damian is scheduled to take some medications. He walks up to the mirror/medicine cabinet, takes out his pills, and puts them back in the cabinet without consuming any. He stares at himself in the mirror for a little while and sees some of his mother's make-up on the sink. (this is his parent's bathroom). He picks up the eye-liner and begins drawing/writing (you know the kind of text I do that covers up a lot of space). He writes in big letters "We do not see through the same pair of eyes and from these eyes, we cannot look into ourselves."
He comes down for dinner and his parents, as always, talk down to him. They ask how his day was, he nods or shrugs. They talk extensively about their day and Damian goes back into his room. No homework, Damian begins to write on his walls, beautiful poetry, incredible art/murals, and he titles it, "There is a reason."
He lays in bed, staring at his accomplishment and his mother comes in to say "Goodnight." When she does, she sees the "mess" all over his walls and almost screams, she is so scared. She doesn't understand. She begins to cry and hugs her son. "Lord, O God if you are up there, please please bless my son. I know he's not perfect, O lord...please please make my baby boy heal!" Damian says nothing. He goes to school the next day. His parents strip the art work from his bedroom walls while Damian is gone. His mother calls the doctor and tells him about what he did, asking for advice. He tells her to bring him to his office the next day so they can talk about medications. At school, Damian sits, staring into space half of the time and drawing things the other half. Random people come over to tell him about their lives and whatever is bugging them, etc. Another girl comes up to him, "Hey." Damian continues drawing. "Do you know like...what guys do to show you that they like you? I mean, I like this guy and I don't know if he likes me back...you know, like I talk to him all the time and he talks to me, too...but yeah...I don't know...." The girl sort of goes into a slight daydream, looking a little troubled and sighs. Damian, without looking up, says "do you ever feel like running away?"
The girl, startled, wakes from her dream. "Huh? I didn't know you talked..."
Damian continues, "it would be as if you just sort of disappeared. You would run away somewhere and no one would ever find you and tell you that you were one way or another. That you were 'Damian' or that you even had a name. It would be as if you never existed, as if you were free...."
The girl gives him a weird look, twirls her hair and slumps down. "So do you think he likes me? I mean like we've known eachother for....like 3 years now. My friends told me he liked me like a long time ago, but I don't want to be the one to ask him out you know. Guys are supposed to ask girls out, right? Not the other way around..."
Damian just sort of slumps over and falls asleep. The girl gets up, angry. "Ugh! They were wrong, you don't listen at all!" She storms off. Damian rests his chin on his arms and stares off into the distance.
Damian goes to the doctor's office and the doctor asks him many questions. "How is school going?" Damian says nothing. "Do you have a lot of friends, a girlfriend?" Damian still says nothing. His mother, sitting in the room with them, speaks up. "He has a lot of friends, but I don't know if he can understand them." She looks worried. The doctor walks around Damian, grabs a stethoscope and nods his head. "I see."
He checks Damian's heartbeat and asks Damian more questions. "Do you understand what I am saying?" Damian stares into nothing. "Does one truly understand words or merely interpret them to fit personal experience?"
The doctor prescribes a different medication and gives Damian's mother a name/phone number of a psychiatrist.
The mother, Karen, looks at the doctor, looking as if she had been crying. She is further saddened. "Do you really think he needs it?" She asks in a quivering voice. The doctor shrugs his shoulders and smiles, politely. "I will leave that up to you, Mrs. Calloway."
She sighs, looking down for a moment. "Thank you." She gets Damian and walks out of the office. In the car, Karen tries to regain her composure. Damian is in the back seat. "Honey?"
She says, as though he were only a small child. "How do you feel about talking to someone...you know, about what you think about?"
Damian says nothing. He begins drawing on his arm, beautiful poems & pictures. "Sort of like a doctor...but more of a friend, really....wh-what would you think about that?"
Damian sort of shrugs. Karen stops talking, trying to stop her tears, and continues to drive home.
On his arm, it says "Kept on walking, never to look back...was free to see what really was..."
That night, Karen and her husband Michael, talk extensively during dinner. Karen has recovered from her little ordeal with Damian and they practically ignore their son as always. They just don't understand him. Damian gets up to go back into his room and they finally acknowledge him. "Goodnight dear!" Calls his mother. "Sweet dreams little man!"

So, anyways, it goes on like this, till one day, Damian disappears. He misses the bus, doesn't get up for breakfast and his parents go in his room to see that he's gone. They seem pretty shocked, but they go through all of his stuff to find TONS of art pieces, wonderful photographs of beautiful things, and amazing poetry/stories. (These are all real pieces of work, famous ones). The parents throw these things in the garbage because they no longer have any use for it. The garbage man picks up the trash and takes it away, but a painting falls out of the back of the truck and a man finds it while walking along a road. He picks it up, looks around, studies the painting. "Huh...who would get rid of this?" The End.