Empath? personal stories

mikegharib95 Aspiring poet and novelist. Musician.
Autoplay OFF   •   9 months ago
The personal story of how my empathic personality has been both a blessing and a curse.


My mother taught me not to relent when threatened

But not to threaten back, only to end

My feuds with morals and rhetoric

My dad finds it ironic that such a strapping young lad

Would think that rage and brute force are bad

Retaliations to a misdemeanor

Although this world is meaner, more eager

To laugh at tragic deaths of morality

And find a punchline in every fatality

Let alone babies who get concussed

Or wives who get battered

None of it mattered to people where I lived

I had the questionable shame of sitting

With a friend, whose written theses

Reeked of hypocrisy across from how he really thought

Instead of having gruntled moments I grunted

At his and his accomplices' constant jabs

As they put me on the grand stage for their own pleasure

Years later, I measure such pain to the unit of how

I'm now under the shade of a fair and high tree

That my friends have for the past thousand days sown

I had a sense of cultural belonging

To two friends who have gone all the way

From their homeland full of democracy and liberty

To lands where gynophobia is treated as patriotic responsibility

One of them decided to treat me,

In the days when I needed no drama

Nor trauma, like a corrupt police officer

Judging me for having thoughts and decisions of my own

Since then, I have fought even harder

With the demons in my head

Enticing me to dread the unknown

And so it was, the last eve of eighteen

For three months and a fraction, I felt

An attraction to the idea

Of ending it all forever

And never looking back

Years later, I look and smile at the tree

And the kind tree smiles back at me

My pictures fell victim to the reach of goons

Who knew no mercy, and tricked me

Into blaming the three most fickle friends I knew

One blamed me for using my space to shine

Another framed me for self-inflicted bullying

And the third knew the perpetrators

But never, to this day, told me who they were

And when I'm left to my devices, I would have felt

Safe, knowing there's nothing I could do to further protect myself

But who else do I expect to disdain me with such passion

When all I did was be me?

The tree now asks, "four years have gone by,

But did you, after all what you've seen, die?"

I look back to old school colleagues, presumed bullies

That I assume now did not intend to cast me out

Every day was about time to reconnect

With someone I thought, in my childhood, I knew

Yet my new acquaintances distract me from ever knowing

What they now think of me

The angry little creep

Whose ultimate wish was to belong

In a world he later saw to be cruel

One would be a fool to believe

That seeking comfort in rebuilding the shattered glass

That is the past

Would ever fulfill them

I want not to care

I want not to show empathy

I want not for things to concern me

I want not for things to crawl under my skin

And into my conscience

And dare I mention how the contrary is yet so true?

"Stop wanting to save the world," they told me

I would gather an army just to shut you up

And prove to you that Hope is yet alive and burning

And no Demon can put it out

All hail the new King Hope

Who regardless of your needless input will reign supreme

And by this I do not mean

That those who disagree should be slain

Your lives may be now pointless, but not forever in vain

We shall teach you the way to mercy and compassion

Or perish with spears penetrating our flesh

And yet that is far from what I hope

I only think of breakfast to eat

That I'm unbothered enough to consume

That with a contented and joyful face I meet

My friends who showed me how it's easy

To see progress in the depths of defeat

So leave me be, O wretched souls

With peace and kindness, you I greet

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