The photoshoot

Standing in front of the plain white back sheet, the powerful lights chasing every shadow from my countenance I stand, wary, eyes hooded, staring directly into the lense of the camera, it’s cyclopean single eye staring back at me unblinking. I can’t think of anything but staring blankly, my face impassive, emotionless, as the situation triggers a flood of memories, of being made to sit with my family as the dreaded photo albums came out, page after page of images of a childhood best forgotten, a past that I have no desire to visit. I blink, a reflexive reaction to the lights burning into my retina, waiting….dreading the click of the shutter, the captured moment, the emotionless brutality of the likeness unfettered by the filters that the mind puts over the eye of the human beholder. I have never seen a photo of me that I like, that’s the truth of it. In the uncaring gaze of the lens there is nowhere to hide, no way to wear my masks, I am exposed, naked, the real me on view for anyone to see, pinned to the photographic paper forever, caught out in my lie to myself.

A single tear runs down my cheek….



About Autistic writing

Im 46, autistic and vocal about it, a specialist autism mentor in higher education, embarking on my MEd in adult autism, autistic advocate and campaigner, writer and co-founder of asP - the autism strategy partnership #differentnotdamaged #askaboutasP

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