Sometimes I find myself feeling deceived by the sheer possibility that perhaps I've been retarded for all my life and I've only ever failed to notice it.
I begin manically speculating about the sincerity of all my social interactions. I wonder if my friends are actually just care workers who have been hired to take me out on field trips and lunch dates. I wonder if all the guys I've ever liked are actually just perverts who fetishize/entertain the company of girls with Down's Syndrome, or something. I wonder if perhaps it is a cultural irregularity that my parents are so accommodating and seemingly optimistic about my "progress" in life, and if all of this speculating only serves as proof to my newfound pathology.
I contemplate the possible reasons why no one has ever brought it up to me before, and assume that perhaps everyone is behaving under the reservation of social affability or, even worse, that their understanding of my deficit is just too far complex for me to comprehend.
Each time these delusions occur I recoil into my memory for confirmations that I do not, in fact, have Down's Syndrome. For example: “Holly, you know Holly, and she would have told you if you were retarded.” “Remember when you went to the grocery store and bought eggs?”