The day of my autism assessment, when I discovered that a shadow is the existence of nonexistence

In 1 hour and a half,
write about a nonexistent feeling
The new normal? (600 words)
in the end, sentimental laughs

In 300 meters, turn right,
go to a nonexistent street
wait for a canceled bus
by authoritative satellite imagery

Grandma thinks I’m at the dentists
for a nonexistent cavity

(breath in)

Arrange cubes as copy of a silhouette
replay sequences backwards and ahead
As she named me procedurally
drops of calmness buried in laminate
predict pretty patterns so far away
As you regret making me
function, normal distribution, working memory
maybe one day I’ll be cured of me
apologies overgrowing me but
There is no normal inside of me.

Describe what a shadow is to me.

‘Twas bright summer day in the autism assessment rooms,
circles of light ringing through water glass
bird songs leaking through the dying vines
A,
shadow is,
when something blocks the light,
the dark projection of objects,
the low, dark trails of clouds before storm,
your skewed alter ego at sunset.
Can you tell me a little more?

(breath in)

A shadow is the absence of light,
900 loneliness inside of me,
nothingness.
A shadow is to be casted by something,
me by my only friend in school,
planet seen by stars flicking,
the scrapped scripts I
made for the illusion
of preconceived normality,
a small funeral in your chest
when you don’t feel what you should
so you pretend crudely.
A shadow is a rhetorical question I don’t understand,
A shadow is the empty chair zone around me.
Something that is,
because something isn’t.
A shadow is the existence of nonexistence,
and outside of that it doesn’t exist.
Something doesn’t exist in me.
You traced its empty edges to see the cavity in my heart.
A shadow is the colorful stains of tears on my glasses.
Then I got percentiles and a friendly goodbye.