Paradox

Do you ever wonder how often you cross the mind of someone else? Do you ever wonder how other people see you? How many dreams you’ve been in? How many alternative lives you lived?

I wonder all the time.

The gift of empathy, they say.

The gift that keeps on giving.

I can’t even handle my own emotions well. I’m a bit of a spitfire. I don’t have much of a filter. I’m prone to be the one to tell you like it is.

So the universe blessed me with empathy.

The ability to feel what others feel.

So here I am — the ultimate paradox. Unable to process my own feelings, yet burdened with all the energies of everyone around me. I’m what you could call an emotional tourist. Prone to ride the highest highs and the lowest lows — depending on the mood of the party.

That “party” is my life.

Lately, I find myself dreaming more and more of old faces, old states of being.

People who once meant the world to me; people who walked away.

Or I walked away from.

My whole life I have been likely to engage in toxic friendships.

I wanted to “fix” the greediness and selfishness of others.

Because that is simply not my nature.

And I can’t imagine treating another human the way some have treated me.

So I awoke thinking,

How often do I cross the mind of those who no longer know me?

How often do they dream of my face?

Do they stop to think of me?

Do they wonder what became of me after we parted ways?

I suppose part of being human is never truly knowing how another sees you.

When it comes down to it, we are born alone.

And we die alone.

We can never know who we were, or who we are, to someone else.

We can never know how significant or insignificant we are in their game of life.

I wonder all the time.

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