DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 16
𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵.
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )
Chip pulls a bench stool
up by the couch.
"Dad," he says, his voice
a whisper in the quiet
room. "Can I... I ask you
a question?"
Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye half-open. "Sure,
what is it?"
Chip's voice is a soft
whisper in the darkened
living room. "What's it like?"
he asks, his curiosity
tangled with fear. "To be...
you know, autistic?"
Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye blinking slowly. "It's...
it's like living in a world
that's too loud," he murmurs.
"And too bright. And sometimes,
things don't make sense. But...
it's also beautiful. Like a
puzzle that only I can solve."
Chip leans in, his curiosity
piqued. "How do you mean?"
he asks, his voice a gentle
prodding.
Plankton's antennae droop, his
eye closing briefly. "Imagine
a symphony playing," he whispers,
his voice a soft melody. "But instead
of music, it's sounds. Voices, lights,
textures... all playing at once.
It's... overwhelming." He pauses,
his antennae twitching with
the effort to explain. "But
sometimes, when everything is
still... I see patterns. It's like...
like the universe is whispering
secrets only I can discern."
Chip nods, his eyes on the
twitching antennae. "And the
absence seizures?"
Plankton's eye opens wider, his
voice a soft sigh. "It's like
being in a bubble," he says,
his antennae stilling. "A moment
out of time, but... it's not real.
I'm not really here."
Chip's gaze is intense, his
mind racing to understand.
"But what do you see?" he asks, his voice
eager. "When you're in that bubble?"
Plankton's antennae twitch, his
eye searching Chip's face. "It's...
difficult to explain," he says,
his voice a soft rumble. "It's like...
I'm distant." His antennae
bob slightly, his eye fluttering.
"But sometimes, it's just...
like a blender. And I'm alone."
Chip nods, his eyes never
leaving Plankton's. "I'll try to
imagine," he whispers. "But I want
you to know, Dad, I'm here for
you." His hand reaches out to
touch Plankton.
Plankton's antennae twitch, his
body tensing slightly. "It's okay,"
he murmurs, his voice a quiet
acceptance. "It's not your
fault."
Chip's hand hovers, unsure. "But I
wish I could help more," he says,
his voice filled with a longing
to ease his father's pain.
Plankton's antennae twitch, his
eye blinking open. "You do help,"
he whispers, his voice a
reassurance. "Just by being
here. Yet you can't fix me, Chip."
Chip's hand retreats, his heart
heavy with understanding. "I know,"
he says, his voice filled with
sadness. "But I want to make
sure you're okay."
Plankton's antennae twitch, his
eye focusing on Chip's earnest
face. "I know," he whispers. "But
you can't always save me. And
right now I'm just feeling tired.."
Chip nods, his hand slowly
withdrawing. "Okay, Dad," he
says, his voice thick with emotion.
"We'll rest now. We'll talk more
tomorrow." Plankton's
eye closes, his antennae stilling.
His breaths even out, his body
relaxing into sleep's gentle embrace.
The room falls silent, the
only sound Plankton's soft
snores. Chip watches his dad,
who's asleep now.
His mind is racing with thoughts,
but his body is still, not wanting
to disturb the fragile peace. His eyes
trail over Plankton's form, noticing
the way his antennae twitch slightly
in his sleep. It's like he's dreaming of
faraway places, or perhaps solving
a complex puzzle only he can see.
Chip's hand hovers over his dad's,
fighting the urge to hold it. He's
seen the way Plankton flinches at
the slightest touch, the way his body
shies away from contact. But
his heart aches to offer comfort, to
let him know he's not alone. With
a deep breath, he decides to be brave.
His fingertips lightly graze
Plankton's hand, the barest
of touches. Plankton's antennae
twitch, his breath catching, but
he doesn't pull away. Encouraged,
Chip wraps his hand around his
dad's, his thumb tracing gentle circles
on the back of his palm. Plankton's
body relaxes slightly, his snores
deepening. Chip's heart swells with
relief. Maybe this is okay.