I, Empathy.

When I was sixteen, I found my little brothers suicide note.
I began to read it, only able to make it half way down the page.
He was sitting upstairs, likely organizing and reorganizing baseball cards in a binder.
Alive, seemingly well. Young.

I sat downstairs staring vacantly at a misplaced notebook with the scribbled last words of someone who still had a voice. I gasped. I was unable to find my own.

This was the first time I experienced the flesh eating bacteria of emotion. The kind of sadness that isn't derived from anything or anyone in particular, that camouflages itself to even the most critical of eyes, and the kind of sadness that fucks you up good. An invisible beast.

I moved. Unable to muster the proper courage to say anything, I walked outside. I sat under our cherry tree, and felt nothing. But the feeling was so much more than that. I buzzed with this monstrous numb that vibrated through every layer of skin. I want to chalk it up to nothing even now, because thats the disguise it uses. But rather, its a potent cocktail of vicious emotion that causes the kind of intoxication that knocks you out, and can't be fixed with sleep or water.

At first, I sat, silently, hours moving like minutes. Posed with a decision to make, neither of which would end well. I wanted to help, but how does a 16 year old begin to help someone who doesn't want to be helped? Or did he? Was he crying out for help? Or was this him cementing his fate? Would telling someone make it worse? Or would it help? What if telling someone meant he would spiral? What if he didn't mean it? How the fuck am I supposed to do this?

And just like that, I turned myself into the victim. I had been too weak to read the note in its entirety, why disappoint the universe, or God, or anyone else by doing the strong thing and speaking up? I couldn't find my voice.

So I sat, and I sobbed. Heaving, body shaking sobs. God, it fucking hurt. The memory of it is so forceful and aggressive the feeling itself is attached to the memory. My whole body hurt with this belligerent sadness that I felt for this young person who seemed so alive, and tangible but felt so lifeless on the inside. I was wrecked. Torn apart. Chewed up, and spit out.

I can't even begin to understand where it comes from, or how it manifests. If memory serves, energy can't be created nor destroyed. So where does this origin-less sadness come from, sucking the life out of the people I love while leaving me in ruins?

Since then, I've seen this kind of sadness appear more. Not quite of the magnitude I saw it the first time, but still as severe. I serve more as a witness. A sponge. But I'm not on the front lines the way there are. I know I don't feel it the same way they do. And I don't try and tell them that I do. They feel depression.

I, empathy.

The curse masked as a craft. I feel everything. Absolutely fucking everything. So much so that I can be sitting at a bar for hours, chatting, drinking floating around in the impaired social exchanges and drunken chatter and instantly feel the weight of someones immense sadness. It cripples me instantly.

Whether its shared or emitted, I feel it in full. My eyes begin to blur, like I can't focus on anything physical. I feel like I am looking down on the situation from outside my body. Its like a building trance, and then the bomb drops. It all hits and I feel its full weight. In my limbs, in the corners of my mouth, in my head, in my chest. I fucking feel it, and it hurts.

And you know what? I can't do a god damn thing about it. And you know whats worse? The fact I am even bitching about it to begin with is selfish. Its a viscous cycle. I have looked at this whole hyper-empathy thing in retrospect before, and what I have gathered is that I subconsciously assume the feelings of another so that I can relate to them, and thus, help them. But because I don't go through it myself, the person often discredits me.

I am rendered useless by my own lack of experience and still acquire all the negative side effects of actually going through it. Maybe thats pushing it too far. I can't speak to that. But boy, its rough.

Regardless, I just want to help and more often than not I find myself impossibly sad. There isn't really a word with enough weight to describe the feeling. I want someone to feel loved so bad that in the moment, I give up all personal feelings to partially assume their burden, in hopes it lightens the load and they feel relief. It doesn't appear to work. The more I reach out, the more I am pushed away and I can't even be upset about it because I am not going through it. Its more like a very enthusiastic suggestion, with no guarantee for emotional or mental retribution.

But I am sitting here, feeling completely useless, guilty for feeling sad myself, and unable to provide the support I want to give. All I am left with is my fucking empathy, a heavy heart, and the same sleepless nights those who feel senseless sadness feel. It fucking sucks, and I am sick of it, and there is nothing I can do about it.

Until I develop more ways to combat this, I will be here. Writing away all the feelings I have in utter frustration. I hope one day, I can reach you, and find the words to say that'll offer you confidence in me, and a sense of security in your confiding. Maybe I am missing the whole point. I am blinded by my desire to bring you ease. And I know this.

Until then, I'll be here. Silently cheering you on, when all I want to do is scream it in your face.

Until then, I'll be here, hoping that my absorption makes you feel lighter.

Until then, I'll be here, under a cherry tree or on a couch at 1am, hoping that eventually the tears will stop and the bravery will kick in. I am sorry to you too, my little brother. For not speaking up for you out of fear for what would come after. I should've spoken up for you out of concern and love disregarding the consequences knowing I acted out of fear for your ceasing to exist, rather than concealing it all to protect your sadness from the world. To protect you from having to explain it all again after explaining it to yourself. Your sadness likely festered further, and I know I had the opportunity to stop it. You are worth being fought for. I wont stay quiet again.

I dont know why I needed to write all this here, but I felt very certain it all needed to be said. Despite its rambling, almost unrelated order, it all came together this way in my head.

Anyways.

As for youx, I love youx, and I'm sorry I can't fix everything the way I wish I could.  I would experience it all if it meant a minute of quiet for you. Please don't forget that.

Utterly Confused.

#
I am utterly confused and taking it out on you.
Nothing I write feels fitting,
But I don't quite feel like quitting.

There is a tension riding my veins
Galloping towards my heart
And my head.
Raising chaos in its wake.

Perhaps I am seeking out retribution
For a wrong I feel done to me.
Unwarranted.
Its possible.
Plausible.
Abhorrent.

I am utterly confused and seeking you out.
I am heartbroken and unsure what to do.
Fear has stood in for your absence.
Unsure how to miss you.

Do I miss you hard?
Soft?
Loud?
How am I supposed to sound?
What might ease,
Please,
Cease it?

I am utterly confused.
I am bruised.
Feeling used
Up.
I gargle the words I want to say,
And spit them out.
Let them swirl down the drain
I turn on the spout.

I want to fill the space between us
With words that sparkle.
Shine,
Words divine
Much
Like How
I feel inside.

I hold back.
Unsure if you want to be missed that way.
Do you?

I look to the mirror.

Water to my face,
Face to the floor.
Hands to cheeks.
Eyes to lids.

I'm utterly confused.
And
I guess
I'm figuring it out.

We can only do so much.

We can only do so much.
But we do so much
Only
To feel like our so much
Is enough.
Coming up short,
Facing
Short comings.
We can only do so much.
So much we can do,
For our only.
Trying to feel like their only
So much.
So, so much.
We try do so much.
We can only do so much.

Baring it.

I miss you more than I can bare sometimes
When I wake up in the morning
Disappointment crawls into bed with me
I ride a high
So high
Trying to rise above
The unbearable
But sometimes
I miss you so bad I can't bare it
I drink until the liquor fills the void you left
I drink in place of drinking you up
Letting it fill me up instead of you
Only to find there is a hole in the bottom of my glass
Where your hands used to be.
 I miss you more than I can bare sometimes
But I bare it
And bare it
And bare it
Until the next time I can't.

Warmer.

Warmer

You were warmer, it was warmer.
Our hearts were warmer.
Together,
Love swarmed her.
But up in the sky
No longer warmer
He warned her.
It'll be colder,
And harder,
There will be
No cutting corners.
With distance aside,
And time's hand forced,
To only move forward
So will I.
I can already feel it
Getting warmer.

Departing LA. The First Glimmer of Hope. 11/7/16

Why am I sad all the time?

Why am I sad all the time?





I wanted to answer this question a million different ways.

I wanted to say, "You don't have to be."
I wanted to say, "Think of happier days."
I wanted to say, "It will get better."
I wanted to say, "You're so beautiful when you're happy.  Please, don't feel sad."
I wanted to say, "I love you!  Does that make it better?"
I wanted to say, "I feel everything you feel infinitely and intensely.  I cry for your sadness."
I wanted to say, "What can I say or do to make it better?"
I wanted to say, "Find something that makes you happy.  Anything.  Please."
I wanted to say, "You don't deserve to feel sad all the time."


Instead, as you laid your head on my shoulder, I said, "I don't know."

But to be honest, I wanted to tell you everything.  I wanted to tell you so much more than that.  I wanted to tell you I'm so sorry you feel sad all the time.  I wanted to tell you I ache for all the times you feel sad for no reason, and for every time I see sudden grief strike your gaze.  I want to tell you how badly I don't want you to feel guilty.  I know you will because I know you have a tendency to see yourself as a burden on others.  I wanted to tell you its okay to feel sadness because I know you can't help it.  I wanted to tell you how much I love you no matter what you feel.  I wanted to tell you we would figure it out together, and we would find a way to fight the sadness together.  I have such a difficult time understanding sudden sadness, and often times I find it hard to not take it upon myself to fix it.   And the frustration that settles in when I can't is almost unfathomable.  But, despite this attribute of mine, I am able to realize sometimes these sadnesses can't be fixed.  I know you know I know that. But I wish I could express to you how badly I wish I could fix it for you.  Not that you need to be fixed in any way, but seeing you feel so debilitated... I just wish I could wash it away.  Bring the lightness I am fortunate enough to see in you out all the time.  Have I ever told you how lovely you are when that young, kind soul shines through?  You're absolutely stunning.  You're a million lightbulbs.  I wish I had the guts to tell you I listened to about a million sad songs tonight to find some sense of clarity in the sadness you feel.  A common language I could speak so that you might see how much I understand. Instead, I just cried.  I cried hard. I cried for all the sadness you feel.  I tell you this not because I want you to feel guilty or responsible or like you are a burden, but because the love I feel for you is so immense, I can't stand the thought of you bearing such sadness alone. And I wont let you bear it alone.  But I promise, I will maintain my light for you. I'm learning to be better at handing these confusing feelings of mine.  I have a horrid habit of seeing fault in myself when someone else is sad, and I have a selfishness when it comes to mending peoples hearts.  In time, I will understand that I can't be the reason you just don't feel sad anymore.  One day, I will be okay with that.

But I wont be okay with you being sad all the time.  I will be understanding, I will be sympathetic and I will love you through every dark space you encounter and every scary bout of confusing peril you find yourself drowning in.  But I will never accept perpetual sadness as a way of life for you.  I will fight a hundred times to maintain a light in your life, and to inspire and warm you.  I will fight ferociously to not let darkness make itself at home in you, and I will never be tolerant of sadness settling in you because I will never stop fighting for your happiness.   I will never stop fighting for you.

When you asked me why you were sad all the time, this is what I meant to say.  This is what I wish I had said.

I hope you find this.

Fucking rain.

I don't come here nearly as much as I once hoped I would.

There was a time where I truly believed if I devised an oasis for myself where I might be inspired to spawn work, I would feel a sense of obligation to my yearning creative and visit this space frequently. I hoped I might be more compelled to write. 

Unfortunately, I have found that, somewhere along the way here, I have lost hope in this medium's ability to bring about clarity and reinforcement.

But the rain woke me up this morning and I was reminded how something so soft but powerful can create a ripple when persistent enough. I always have my favorite thoughts in the morning. 

With the rain came a sense of anxiety. By some odd circumstance, the rain itself seemed to actually be comforting. The sound of silence and darkness, mixed with the slight presence of the Christmas lights combined with the pouring rain made me feel safe. I myself have never loved the stuff, but as I awoke this morning I felt a sense of gratefulness for the inclement weather. Why anxiety?

As I'm nearing the end of an educational venture, I have began to realize the seriousness of choices. Until now, choices have been fairly easy to make. Being an adolescent comes with that perk.  There is little consequence to most any (appropriate and legal...) choice as a young adult because most of the situations we find ourselves poised in are often far more reversible or salvageable in the case of failure or catastrophe. For example, I went through a pretty tumultuous time choosing a path of higher education. My vision was sunshine since I was a competitive runner with intentions of being a competitor for the school I attended. After many conversations with some schools down south, my future veered toward Oregon where, evidentially, the sun can be sparse and I was a little disappointed. But this choice wound up working out, because I had parents who supported me and friends who loved me and I had a sense of assurance knowing if I hated it here, I could have the means to transfer if I 

A) ran better 

B) got a job and saved my money

C) was only switching schools in the same state

My choice had little consequence because in the grand scheme of things, the choices I am making now are not going to be permanent nor will they affect my ultimate goals for real life. (Yes I'm sorry if you're hearing this for the first time, but college isn't real life.)  But now, as I'm beginning to contemplate where I go after school, what I choose to do with my degree, where I start getting jobs, how I brand myself etc. I'm beginning to understand these are the choices that are not as easy nor obvious or reversible as I once thought they might be. 

As I lay here listening to the rain, I realize I have never had a choice to be anywhere else. My financials suited Oregon best, as well as my athletic work ethic. I have been raised in this rainy state and I have found myself endeared with even the peskiest of perks here. Now suddenly, I'm being posed with a choice to get out, and I'm beginning to wonder if the decision really is just black and white. I've always wanted sun, but after finding comfort in the rain this morning, I'm beginning to seriously consider if I'm ready to depart from this type of comfort in full? Or perhaps, I want to romp around a few other places before I just concretely make a choice to plant my ass in the first place I've always wanted to go. Perhaps there are comforts I have never considered in PLACES I haven't considered and I might deprive myself of discovering this simply because I feel there is only once decision on the table.  This is the thought that strikes anxiety. I am finally in charge of where I go and how I choose to shape myself in that place, and for the first time I earnestly believe that this choice is not only more difficult, but far more serious than it has ever appeared before. I will never be able to get these early exploratory years back and I'm not quite sure I'm ready to make permanent choices so quickly. I'm certainly not ready to give up what else is out there in the time that things can still be reversed, or salvaged. I suppose only time will tell how I handle this or what happens, but for now, I feel a whole lot better. 

Fucking rain.