"Many people believe I couldn't possibly be autistic, because I seem "normal" and I'm "intelligent". That I can't be because I'm not like others that they treat as examples rather than people." Haitham rants in his monotone voice, head in your lap while he looks up at you.

He leans back into the scritches you're giving his hair, something he finds very soothing from you.

"They think because I don't act out physically or emotionally, I'm fine. But that's not fair." He reaches for his fidget.