The Slow Destruction of an Empathetic Individual

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brookee21
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Icon The Slow Destruction of an Empathetic Individual

Post by brookee21 »

When I was just a child, my parents often fought-nothing new, really
The echoes of their voices rising through the vents to my top floor room and me as I waited in a corner hands over my ears and my eyes pressed shut waiting for it all to end
And it would...most likely with the slam of a door as my mother ran out, disappearing for days on end
It was routine, but the roots of my pessimism began to grow into the foundations of my being as I never knew whether to believe that she would come back at all.
Back then, I thought those times were making me tough, building me up so I would be able to fight all the world would throw my way. It did in a way. I was strong against my own troubles. I could control how I reacted in those situations.
But, those times made me crumble for the troubles and adversity of others.
Usually, I tried to portray a sunny disposition
But, it was those days after a loved one had been hurt that my soul seemed clouded by a heavy gloom that could not be undone
The day after I sobbed with a friend who had been cheated and lied to, refusing to believe in love
I texted my other that I was not okay - a relationship ender
The day after my brother started using and I was bedridden
The day after a friend had wanted to hurt himself, silent and decomposed of matter as if I wanted to give my existence to him
So I could try to make him whole again while unravelling myself
The day after my mother sat in the parking lot weeping and broken, hiding in the high school hallways and hoping to disappear myself
I can't contain the emotions within me
They flood my senses as I am drowning, sinking with the awareness that all I need to do is keep swimming, but sinking all the same
And, all I desire is to give every part of me to the ones who ache in the feeble hopes that it will cure them, that it will make them whole while I myself am falling apart
And they continue to take, as if they are so starved and exhausted that the morsels of myself they take are filling and energizing
They are high on what I have to offer as I sink lower and lower
And, they don't give anything in return
They talk and they weep and they moan about their troubles
They never question mine because if I am strong enough for them, I must need to be strong enough to pick myself up
And I do every time. I drag myself back from the depths, scrounging for the littered pieces of myself on the ground in hopes that I will be able to find myself and recall all that I am.
The crumbs left behind, the pieces of me I thought wouldn't matter lead to the end of everything I am.
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Dydan
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Post by Dydan »

Hi, I don't know who you are, but I really enjoyed reading your poem. Some verse really touch my soul because I can relate with it. I hope you have a nice day and don't stop writing.
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Areej Tahir
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Post by Areej Tahir »

this poem touched my heart! Absolutely amazing
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