The Hug

I don’t hug people too often. It’s not that I freak out if I hug, but I don’t like hugs like some people. I do it as an obligary jester when someone wants a hug.

So, why did I just write a random tidbit about me? I want to write a rant, and that was my preface.

I have a neighbor that knows I have asperger’s, but still treats me normal. In fact, I thought she had forgotten about it, until today. We were talking a while about important things happening in our lives. When we were all saying goodbye, everyone was doing their hugging and such, so I reached out to hug her. This is when it got awkward, and for once it wasn’t me.

She acted shocked, exclaiming how honored she was that I would hug her. She was so happy, like she was the first person I had ever hugged. We hugged, and because of her shock, it felt very odd. Like history was being made, like she was the special person that got the autistic girl to touch her. She hugged me long and hard, relishing the moment. And suddenly, I hated her hug. Her skin felt sticky and clingly, her body too hot for me (temperature), it was suffocating and I couldn’t pull back fast enough.

I hate it when people make a big deal out of things about me, especially normal thing.

Rant over.

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