When you are autistic you have fixations, and when you have fixations, people become irritated.
Because they will not care about why pigeons were just so important in World War I, and they will not care about why it is important to never, ever release little white doves at little white weddings, because there is a good chance that they will be eaten by little white cats.
And they will not ever care about the little homing pigeon named Cher Ami, or how she flew twenty-five miles in sixty-five minutes with a bullet in her chest, and they will not care about how she delivered her message with a leg hanging from a tendon and blind in one eye, and they will not understand that little white doves are not little white homing pigeons that know how to find their way home after release.
And they will not care that Cher Ami means “dear friend” in French, and they will not care that it is masculine, and they will not care that her name should have been Chère Amie, with e’s at the ends and an accent grave because she was a hen.
And you can certainly forget about them caring about your very own little white homing pigeon named Chère Amie, with e’s at the ends and an accent grave because she is also a hen.
And they will not care if you are in love with these animals, because it is strange to always be talking about the life of a little white bird that sits in a little white cage.
And it is excruciating, because it almost seems like they do not care that your little white bird that sits in a little white cage keeps you waking up every single day.
Because when little white birds do not get out of their little white cages for several hours every single day, those little white feathers turn a really shitty brown, and the fox said that you are responsible forever, because you tamed her, and forever does not end when you die, so if you have to remain fixated forever to remain tame, to keep that tie, then it is worth it to be the only one who cares.