If you have known me for any time, you will know that I cringe whenever I see the contraction “it’s” used in place of the possessive pronoun “its.” To a lesser extent, the same nails-on-chalkboard feeling is evoked when I encounter similar mistakes with their/they’re, your/you’re, and others. It’s only a matter of time before people start thinking her’s is correct, or even hi’s. But for whatever reason, the proper use of its/it’s occupies a special place in my heart. And I’ll explain why.

In geometry, I learned about asymptotes: lines that functions will never touch except at the point of infinity. I have always felt that language is a tool, much like a geometric function, and that the description of absolute truth is akin to an asymptote. Mastery of language will get you close to the asymptote, but not even the greatest of poets can quite reach it.

Difficulty with language comprehension is a major indicator of someone on the autism spectrum. I have huge problems with spoken word. I have always felt that there is a strange disconnect between my thoughts and my mouth which makes it virtually impossible to articulate my opinions and feelings by talking. Likewise, I have problems understanding others when they speak, which sometimes makes meetings at work agonizing. It takes a huge amount of brain cycles for me to process what others say, and when you start throwing in corporate business-speak, I find it tiring to the point of mental exhaustion.

However, I have always felt very comfortable with the written word since it allows me to sculpt and craft my thoughts in a way that is otherwise impossible. Sure, I don’t always get it right, but I enjoy the rules of language and the possibility that I can use it to clearly articulate my points.

And that’s where I have a problem with the misuse of it’s. Consider this sentence:

The dog’s head slowly turned on it’s massive, mangy neck.

I’m reading along, and suddenly I’m stopped dead in my tracks. I simply don’t understand what the sentence means. It could mean any of the following:

• The dog’s head slowly turned on it is massive, mangy neck.
• The dog’s head slowly turned on it has massive, mangy neck.
• The dog’s head slowly turned on it was massive, mangy neck.

I have to go back, undo the rules of language, and attempt to decipher what the author meant to say. Which then puts doubt on everything else that I’ve read up until then. Not only is the flow of language completely disrupted, I don’t even know whether I can trust my comprehension anymore.

I know I’m nitpicking, that I need to just get over it. But it’s language, and there are rules, and the reason for those rules is that language means stuff. Without the rules, there is no meaning, and no understanding of one another.