I might have been on the verge of asberger syndrome. Since I was a baby, my family find it difficult to call my attention, to speak to me, to tell me don’t cry. I was either silent or keep knocking every second with tears. My granny thought I was either deaf or blind. I never meant to be annoying. My dormie complaint about the same incurable indifference of me. But the fact is, I am too far from being indifferent. My inner life is another planet. But I don’t know what is between me and others. Adulthood has changed me a little bit. I can talk like a polite dude. I can get to know people, however hard it is for me. Oh no, to be fair, the real cause of any change is mom and the Buddha, who tell me: it’s OK. And, the biggest challenge for them, I think, is that they also try to make me a better person. How to be myself while pursing a better self? I once asked my mom. She didn’t reply. Now I think, it is all about how I could respect myself more, how to live with less guilt, and more love.

Mom, how did you make it, believing that even without a single word, you know I miss you?


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