I've managed to sleep for an hour and a half since I last wrote, and now feel a bit more rested. When I woke up, my mind was swirling round with its usual energy, and I lay there for some time being bombarded with thoughts and images. I felt confused when I woke up, but gradually felt much more comfortable and (dare I say it?) peaceful. I thought of all the people I am closest to, and of how much they mean to me. The picture represents how I am feeling; the flowers are beautiful, bright, varied, perfect. So are my people. They flood my sometimes dark world with light. Like the flowers in the painting, my people are perennial, and not two-minute wonders. Just like the flowers too, I look forward to seeing my people whenever they appear. Both are reliable and trustworthy, and are a great source of beauty in my life.
Then my thoughts took a sidestep, and I started thinking about all the different colours of the flowers. The idea quickly transformed itself into the autistic spectrum. Each of the colours has its own innate beauty, and in terms of the thoughts I don't have a favourite colour. However I will not wear red. I avoid it like the plague, but like seeing red won by people whom it suits. I then wondered which part of the spectrum I was on, and whether it mattered or not. It probably doesn't matter in the slightest, except to me, but I suspect that (metaphysically speaking) I must be red, since this is the colour I find most difficult. I wonder?
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