Kyson sat cross-legged on his bed, his blue glasses slightly askew as he stared at a checklist on his tablet. His shirt, emblazoned with the vibrant autism infinity symbol, stood out against the pale blue of his bedding. Around him, sticky notes with reminders clung to the wall like colorful butterflies.
"Why does everything have to feel so jumbled today?" He sighed, tapping his fingers against his knee in a steady rhythm.
The list seemed endless—pack backpack, finish math homework, feed the fish, remember lunch. Each task felt like a mountain. Kyson took a deep breath, recalling his mom’s advice to break things down, one step at a time. He slid off the bed and hunted for his favorite pencil, determined to start small.
Kyson entered, clutching his checklist, but as soon as he saw the bustle, his heart raced. The sounds, the smells, the flurry of movement—it was all too much. He froze, eyes wide, breath quickening as the urge to escape bubbled up inside him.
"Mom, can you help me with my list? I... I can't think straight," he managed, voice trembling.
His mother’s eyes were calm and kind as she listened. Kyson felt the tension in his chest ease as she spoke softly, guiding him to focus on one thing—just breakfast for now. "Let's sit together and make a plan. We can do it step by step. You’re not alone, Kyson," she reassured him, and the noise faded into the background.
Kyson grinned, the weight on his shoulders lifting with every item checked off his list. He remembered to feed his goldfish, their tiny tails flickering in the bright tank light. The satisfaction of small successes filled him with pride, reminding him that his differences made him unique, not broken.
He touched the autism symbol on his shirt, feeling a sense of belonging. "Tomorrow might be hard, too. But I know I can handle it, one step at a time," he whispered to himself, a soft smile curving his plump lips. The world outside felt less overwhelming, somehow, and inside, hope glimmered bright.
