I wish to remain anonymous.
This is where I will write my stories, or my nightmares. Stay awhile.
Nine.
Today, I will be clearing my mind and resting my soul by playing Mario Kart naked on my couch.
Thank you, that is all.
Eight
It was a great day.
The boss called a meeting at 8 am, so I drag myself up, make an extra large protein coffee smoothie, ( freeze brewed coffee in an ice tray the night before, add ice coffee cubes, almond milk and protein powder all in a blender.) I know I’m going to need it. The meeting is store-wide, I won’t be alone. I arrive early, and sit at the gate as The Birthday Massacre plays in my right ear. I feel Chel’s tired waves before I see her. She comes for behind my back, and flops across from me, leaning back on the doorway. I like Chel. She’s young with dark hair and eyes, curvy, but not anything anyone would ever call fat. She’s very pretty. I ask how she is, and her response is one I knew. “Ugghhhh!” the sound is of fatigue and annoyance, “I couldn’t sleep at all….” I pass my shake over, and explain its contents as she sips, smiling and saying its delicious.
Two of the soon to be four men come by. Lyle I see often. Mark, I do not. I smile and high five him, and ask how his kids are. Mark’s a good man. I don’t have to be an empath to feel that. The two men discuss parties, Chel and I discuss out shared lack of sleep. Tou shows up and lets us all in, and we clock in and wait for more to show up. Duck shows up next. She’s small, blonde, sunny. I pass my coffee slush to her, and she passes to Chel as Hue walks in, tired as the rest of us. I hug him tight as he slouches on me. “I’m tiiiiireeeeed.” he drawls. I laugh. We’re a sorry bunch, the lot of us. I love them though.
The meeting happens, and truthfully I don’t remember most of it. Something about digital….happenings…..or….something. I should have been listening, but Mark’s positive emotions are infectious. The meeting ends, and I buy Mario Kart 7. Chel catches up with me as I head out, and it’s not even 9 am, but we decide to go shopping. We leave the mall, and find a strip mall to wander around. Mark’s emotions are still with me. It’s cloudy, and the weather is cool. Its so lovely. We walk and talk, and it’s so nice to have a chance to actually talk to Chel. We walk around, and laugh at small things, and talk about nothing. We leave the strip mall and head for a small geek shop, she’s never been. Her joy is almost overwhelming as he walks in, and sees a plush gray cat that sings “Soft Kitty” when you press the paw. She squeals and hugs the plush. I love seeing pure emotions. Emotions that aren’t tainted by fear of judgement, or clouded by doubt. We wander around, and I find a thick clay mug with Sylvanas Windrunnner posed on it, and the word Undercity emblazoned under her. I giggle myself as I decide to buy it. We go “halvsies” on Sailor Moon pins of Luna and Artemis. She keeps Luna, I take Artemis. She brings me home and I let her meet the cats, and she snuggles mine, and notes he really could be an Artemis. She leaves, and I throw open the doors and windows, the cool is wonderful. I hate summer. I start to clean the kitchen before I decide Mario Kart 7 is more important than dishes. I make tea in my new mug. I make a mental note to bear hug Mark next time I see him.
It was a really, really good day.
Seven.
The funeral was today, and it wasn’t that bad. People were sad but their emotions weren’t chaotic, as most are during a funeral.
The father of the dead sat in front of me. I have an issue when old men cry. Only old men, though. Old men in my day, have seen it all. Lived it all. Most of them were raised on farms, maybe some went into the service. Some killed men, some watched men be killed. Most were told at a young age that emotions were for girls. So, when old men in my day, when they cry, I cry. Because for an old man to cry, you know it has to be bad. These men have fought wars. They’ve killed. And for whatever reason, they’re crying. It bothers me. I hate seeing them cry. It makes my heart twist.
Needless to say the father of the dead cried. They played sad songs, and I thought to much about the words and started to cry myself. I focused on the chandelier. “the chandelier is gold. Ugly. And gold. Ugly as balls. Gold balls.” over and over until I had sealed the cracks in my walls and could see again.
Little boys in dark suits and little girls in dresses. Most were too young to understand why they were even there. A few, however, did. A girl in a red dress, maybe 11, walks past me with red eyes and tear stained cheeks. The emotions that fall from her tell me this is her first time understanding death, and its finality. I want to hug her, but I hold onto his hand instead. The boy, the oldest, is sniffling and biting his lip. He’s trying so hard not to fall apart. I wish he would. He can’t be older than 13 at the most. I remember my first funeral that I realized the dead wasn’t coming back.
There was a dinner after. Everyone was smiling and laughing. Humans. We’re so adaptive. Our loved ones die, but….we’ll be okay. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but someday, we’ll be okay.
I’m proud of myself and my walls today. We did good.
I remember this time, I was in high school. I’d been saying for years how much I wanted a venus flytrap. I’d had this awesome day at school, we had hosted a debate tournament, which really meant we ran through the halls singing RENT. I came home, to my family around the table, my sister was crying. My mom handed me a VFT, and said she needed to tell me something. A cousin I had been close to, lost his battle with cancer. I didn’t say anything, but I looked down at my plant, and thought how weird it was that suddenly everything was out of place. I had gone my whole day, without knowing, but it was only now, that everything was askew. He was one of my best friends. How could I have not known? Me, of all people, with what I can do, I didn’t know.
(Source: lifesforthelivin, via autoreb)
Five.
I am in the worst pain. I hate being female today. I usually don’t mind, but it’s almost unbearable this time.
Ugh. Maybe this explains yesterday.
Four.
Sighs.
You know that feeling you get, when the person beside you, you know their next move, and how it will effect you? Or the feeling when you feel the car wreck happen before it does? When you see the crystal vase shatter before it hits the ground?
My head is exploding.
It wasn’t a bad day, actually the opposite. I went to lunch with a friend, then went to our Asian stores we frequent, and had a wonderful time. But that feeling was/has/is following me all day. Something’s shifted….or moved…I don’t know, and I feel crazy trying to explain it. I just kept expecting to wreck or be attacked all day. Maybe my walls were down. I don’t know.
Three.
Today was a bad idea. A really bad idea. We went to his family’s lunch, and the emotions were…loud, even though no one else was. You know how it goes, the soft murmur in tones, no one uses their normal speaking voice, as if the dead could hear them. The urgent whispers. The mother of the dead, breaking down mid-meal. The shaky hands. Prolonged hugs. The, “I was doing _____ when I heard the news.” stories.
I’m a nervous as I am comfortable. It’s a feeling I don’t like. I get that feeling in hospitals, where I spent a lot of my early years. The feeling of being home, or something like, but home was not filled with good memories. I’m comfortable with death more do than I am with most humans. Dealing with death, is easy. Someone dies, and then you get to cut yourself off for a time. Be within yourself. Yes, you lost someone, and that’s awful. But we die. I’ll never understand how people blame God for their loved one dying. We, seeing as how we have been living to die since we were created, evolved, whatever you believe, it’s silly to assume that a cosmic deity suddenly decided to ruin your personal life by killing off your loved ones. We’re weak. Fragile. Immortality was never possible, yet we act like we will live forever, and then scream and stomp when we’re shown the reality.
The cigarette smoke is heavy, and the back of my throat burns. He’s told them I’m allergic, but they don’t care. We keep quiet, we won’t be here long today, and they’re not in a favorable mood anyways. They pull out the family pictures and the laughs start as they sort through old memories, and better times. Fat babies, smiling, younger versions of everyone. I see baby punctures of him, and I happily tease him about his chubby cheeks, and how our children might look one day.
We leave, and his uncle takes us home. They chat in the front seat, and I sit in the back, lost in thought over how the next few days will go. The issue with his death is how similar it was to the one of my sister. A bad relationship in the works, for the better, and it never got anywhere. All my old feelings came back. I didn’t want them to. I did this a year ago. I don’t need a sequel to the movie, thank you.
We make it home, and I’m home for maybe an hour before I’m called to work. I’m annoyed only mildly. I’m out of deodorant, and work is never cool. I work with Hue tonight, so I don’t mind going in. Hue’s a good man, funny, and generally has the emotional range of sand, which makes working with him actually relaxing. It was a typical Saturday. Busy, filled with children who have been sent in by their mother who is busy at Victoria’s Secret or Sears.
I’m home now, and my own thoughts are chewing on my skull, demanding a spot in my brain, which, for them means taking over. All this makes my head pound.
Good night everyone.
My cat, my iPod, my husband, a few choice friends, painting, dancing.Being an Empath comes with some traits which take a bit of caring for. I believe that soothing is one of the most important things an Empath must do. My soothers: Nature / Chocolate Mousse / the Sea / Fruit / Friends who make me laugh / writing / Music / Comedies
Two.
I’m not fond of my in laws. I’m not fond that I have to see them today. It’s always a sensory overload. And there’s been a death in the family. I really just want to sleep.
