Art. It can be a mind-blowing thing or something some people couldn't give a hoot about. Perspective is paramount.
Now a poem by myself:
The Asperger's Person. They have a craving for the aloneness, yet don't want to be alone. They long to be part of this world, yet long to live on a different planet, perhaps with the aliens because the Aspie knows they are like the aliens. Another deep fear of the person is mediocrity, the realization that this may be a very bland world. However, they possess the ability to experience heightened senses and deeper perception than the ordinary human. They also have the capacity to see behind this earthly facade. That can be horrifying. A great amount of people do not have the capacity or courage to see beyond the curtain of illusion, and if they could, the truth would perhaps frighten them to death.
The Aspie who never gets sick, has a top level immune system, yet is so very sensitive to every invading scent and irritant. This disgusting, chemical world with its perfumes, diesel and gas smell. Humans are soiling paradise.
All of the swirling, horrifying realizations stick to the Aspie brain like white to rice, and this nags at the beautiful Aspie brain. But, alas, it could simply be the old yin and yang, the black and white, and the need for existence to contain the great balance to run properly. Afterall, what is joy without pain.
When a new day dawns, and the eyes open, perhaps it's best to simply smile at the gift of the new day. Afterall, the Aspie is not a superhero, despite always feeling like one.
Maybe the Buddha had Asperger's. If only the Grey alien could cry, we'd have something.