The Isolation Of Empathy
Your voidness drowns in the strength of my own thoughts. I lay there trying to empathize with emptiness. Searching for something to help me float through the chaos in my head. I crave the shallowness of someone else’s emotions to ignore the depth of mine, only to start feeling for us both. I dance in a world where everything is so bright and blatant, I cannot help but carry what others do not know how to feel.
They see my strength as an invitation to be weak and for the same reasons I clung to their dullness, they dump their only emotions into my hands. I am stuck holding the world of others when all I wanted was to escape my own. It is so easy for me to heal I forget I do not have to cling to everything that is broken. My heart aches for all of the damage everyone’s world contains, I cannot help but tend to their emotional garden. It is so easy for me to love, I forget I do not have to fix the hate.
The depth of my understanding runs too deep in my roots to not have the patience for the uneducated. I try to anchor everything to the back of my heels, foraging through life with the pain of nonsense pinching into every step. The unsteadiness of it all ripples through my body like a stormy sea. I feel the sickness of a first-time sailor twisting through my entire body as my hunger for connection suffocates me. I am trapped by a body that dramatizes life and nowhere to release my overflowing passion for it.
I hate the isolation of my intensity, so I chase the boredom your walls momentarily allow me to experience. Feeling the emotions of the world makes me so distant from other’s reality I must trap myself in someone else’s vapidity in order to belong to society. I am wandering endlessly through an art museum in which my comprehension of the art is consistently unrequited.
I am frustrated by the ignorance of subdued people, yet I continue to carry their worlds in my hands chasing the thought of one day being free from this boat of empathy.