[DorianP]: 206.Miscellaneous.About a boy

This is a slightly altered version of a column I wrote for a forum shortly. Well, I guess it should be called a column, at least.

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About a boy

In my class, there is a boy. He is eightteen years old, always forgets to shave, and he is autistic. I call him a boy, because in his heart, he is, and he will always be, even though he may not look like it. This boy is my friend, and I'm proud of it.

His faults are many; people look down at him because of that. He is always talking, and then I mean really always. He says the wrong things at the wrong moments, and then people laugh at him, and he doesn't understand what he has done wrong. Or worse, he understands, but can't help it. For example, he just starts yelling through the whole class that he doesn't have a faint idea if he's straight or gay, without any second thought. Those things don't make him popular.
The third grade has cost him two years, for one simple reason: he couldn't stand his classmates, and those classmates managed to make life for him like hell itself. He didn't have a single friend in that class, for no one wanted to be seen with him, that weird guy who always talked, and always said the wrong things exactly the wrong way. He read to much, this boy, and still does, so he sometimes talks like a book.
His father is a geography teacher, and quite a popular one, too. Many people don't even realize he is his father. His father and mother, both very remarkable persons, are divorced, and have never known what to do about him, or how to raise him. So both of them did precisely the wrong thing, just like he always does: they were too soft. They didn't know what to do, so they didn't do anything at all, afraid as they were that their son would come to like the other parent better.
So, in that third class (14 to 15 years old) that boy lived in what could be called an utter nightmare. No one there to understand him, or try to understand him. No one there to talk to him, that which he needs most. He just needs someone to talk to, and then he is a happy boy. In some ways he is so complicated, and in others he is so simple.

Then, something changed. Because of his terrible school results, he had to do that year over again, and suddenly he was dumped into another class. My class.
We really didn't know what to do about him, at first. Imagine, an unknown boy, a year older than you are, just starts talking to you, out of the blue. There were some really weird reactions towards him from some persons, but this time it went unlike last year. We tolerated him. We were different.

This demands some explanation: since a year or so, a tight group of friends had formed, centered around me and my all-time best friend on one side, and two girls on the other side. We just got along very well, and others started to join the group. At that moment, the beginning of the third class, there were about eight people in our little gang. Most of us either hadn't had much friends before, or were just very tolerant. Those were the days.
So, we didn't hate him, we didn't look down on him. Why should we? He was just... different, I guess, but he wasn't any less. He joined the group, and since that moment, there were friends for him.
Don't think it all went smoothly, though. Some of us didn't really like him, but because of me and some others, they gave in. I think I am his best friend. He needs me, and others. He would be nowhere without friends.
Sometimes, we are very hard on him. Well, especially me, cause I'm the one he gets along with most. I'm trying to teach him things, like not to talk like you're right out of a fantasy book, or to speak a little less loud, or not to speak at all at certain moments. It is difficult for him, and sometimes he gets really mad at me. Because of his own faults, which he realizes later, and then apologizes for.
I'm trying to teach him how to find his way in a hostile world, or at least how not to draw too much attention to himself. It's a slow process, though.

Some people think I'm mad, because I'm his friend. I pity those people. They don't understand a f*cking thing, they never really look at him, they never try. They never try. And that, my friends, is something he is doing all the time. That is the most important reason why I'm his friend and not the pal of some others. He is a good person, even with his weaknesses. He is intelligent and very sensitive, in his way. He tries, and sometimes succeeds, which is a great victory for him.

Do you know such people? What are your experiences with them? I'm eager to hear your thoughts.

Dorian