I've always known I am empathetic. I mean, the astrology mugs says so. But I haven't reached my extremity yet so I couldn't take it seriously.
However, recently I had the chance to experience a real relationship. Although the preview was faint, I found my courage to stay put.
I am slowly learning the choreography. Little by the little, I started to learn the dance. And I needed to dance before I could set up the stage for somebody else.
I am ambushed by the extremity of my empathetic nature. For he is hurt and I am also hurt. It's no ordinary pain. I could feel his emotions perhaps even deeper than he does. It's one thing to understand somebody else's pain, and another to live it.
I am living it.
I could retrace his mistakes and feel every bit of regret. I could revisit his memories and feel every tang of bitterness. I am absorbing all of his bad energy, unwelcomely. I have nowhere else to dump it all. So I bottle up his excess emotions. I keep it inside.
I feel this foreign set of emotions.
And it stings.
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