I want this feeling to be mollified, but I know it won’t be. I’m a circus act of a human being—I’m a carney on steroids, at this point. It’s like my brain is flooded with this overwhelming obsession with others’ emotions. I’m so sensitive to the auras of other people, the feelings and waves of energy that they exert. I’m trapped in this circus act of a brain—honestly, who walks into a room and immediately feels their emotions flicker, just based off those around them? It’s like I’m trapped in an unending, emotional whirlwind. And because of this crazy sensitivity I have to others’ emotions, I feel the constant need to check on their mental states. Are you okay? Is everything all right? I love you. How can I help you?
It’s especially painful to me when I reach for somebody—when I extend my palm and my heart in the hopes to help—and they treat me like I am barely there. Like an opaque veil hanging down between us, I’m just this barely-there girl with her help that’s barely-there and here opinions that don’t matter. It hurts.
Happiness is a narcotic to me. I long for it because it is solid and clear and potent and achievable. It’s the ultimate goal. But until everyone in my life is happy, I can’t be happy. I’m just twisting my hair in anxiety in the hopes that one day I might be there.