You May Think You Know Who I Am #2

You may think you know who I am.  You see me everyday at the shelter.  The one for the mentally challenged.  You pick up the pace when you pass me, afraid that I might try to speak to you, afraid of being made uncomfortable.  I hear what you say about me.  “Look at the freak!?  Or…What a retard!  And…He’s such an imbecile!”

I know why you say these things.  I understand.  You’re afraid.  You’re afraid I might try to touch you, that maybe whatever I’ve got is contagious.  You’re afraid of not being able to understand, thereby exposing my ignorance.  You think I must be good-for-nothing.  A waste of space.

But you don’t know that through the computer, we’ve had a conversation.  You were treating me just like a person and didn’t even know it.

You look at me and see my disabilities.  You don’t know what I’m capable of.

You may think you know who I am, but you don’t even know my name.

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