Loving another passing person is an intensely powerful experience.
By passing I don't just mean people who hide the fact that they're ASD, but people who may be identified as ASD but are considered to be "really high-functioning" or exceptions. What I'm thinking about as the primary characteristic of such people is calculation. Pretending to understand or not understand, trying to be charming, desperately trying to appear valuable in some area, or to remind someone of their disabled brother so they'll look out for you. Crying on purpose to get a break. Doing anything possible not to cry. Becoming comic relief. Dressing like you do drugs so you don't have to explain.
The feeling you experience is a feeling of sliding into home base constantly with nanoseconds to spare.
Getting what you need by sneaking around and manipulating it out of people; moving until you're about to drop dead; constant running commentary in your head about how much you're fucking up.
These people feel brilliant and veer between terror and immense arrogance. When you are constantly dissembling you feel like you could take on the world but you also feel incredibly alone. And you feel like you're made out of paper sometimes. You feel like you've borrowed someone else's momentum--like you're going really fast and that's really cool, but you could also smash into a brick wall and crack your head open, but it would be stupid to stop because it's possible you'd never be able to get moving again.
Loving another passing person is an intensely powerful experience, and if you know what I know you know what I mean. It's like being blood brothers. Not being blood brothers, but the act of pressing the inside of your arm against the inside of another person's arm. That's where we are now.