~September 5th, 2017~
~Sometime between 10 and 11PM~

Her:
You're an empath.

Me:
I guess so.

Her:
Have you ever thought about it?

Me:
Being an empath?
I never knew there was a name for it.

I never knew there was a name form my kind of pain analyzation. Like I have some kind of supernatural power to read into pain of all kinds.

Her:
Is it that you understand other people's pain or your own pain or both?

Me:
I think I’ve always done both.

Her:
I had a feeling.

Here we go.

Her:
How does it affect you?

A loaded question, and being the person I am I answered it the only way I knew how:

Me:
I always get this feeling that when people are sad or hurt, I have to be too.
Sometimes it’s just my way of showing that pain is just something people have.

But mostly, it makes me helpless to stop other people’s pain.
I get sad, like some kind of way to share the pain that isn’t even mine.
And when it is my pain, nobody can seem to understand it fully.
And it’s not like I completely understand someone else’s pain,
but you see and hear a lot when you turn silent for awhile.

Lots of people try to say that people aren’t alone when they suffer.
And most of it is comfort.

But most of the time I see people in pain, and I don’t see a reason to comfort.

I see more of a reason to just be there.

Experience something beyond yourself.

There a certain type of selfless peace that comes when pain is no longer just one person’s fight.

It’s not about being together in pain. It's about experiencing life with pain just passing by.
It’s been said in books, “Pain demands to be felt”
I don’t know, something about that makes me wish I could do more.

But yeah,
I’m empathetic a lot of the time.
Maybe that’s why I stick around even when I shouldn’t.

I stop. I've said enough.

Me:
Sorry, I’m rambling...
That’s a ton of text.

Silence

And for a minute, I wonder if anything I say is being understood.

Her:
The way you speak is beautiful.
I'm marvelling in it.

... I sit in awe. Grasping at a full acceptance of the way I convey myself in feelings, but more importantly, here, in this moment.

Her:
You speak poetry.

Me:
No wonder I’m a poet.
It’s like destiny or something idk.

Part of me wishes I would have spelt the whole phrase out, it has the same amount of syllables.

Her:
I'm here for you.
I **** at comforting and that's not what I want.
All I want is for you to know that I am present.
And sharing the fight.

This, THIS right here, is companionship, and friendship, saying that "I can be here", and that will be enough.

Her:
I want to fight with you.
Even though I'm not very aggressive.

Hearing this said, "I want to fight with you". Not "I want to fight for you". This says more than any kind of battle with someone at my side, this is real, in this moment.

Me:
Hahah, we’ll fight it with music or something.
Doesn’t have to be aggressive.
Faith, hope, the essentials.

We're believers in things like love, God, and good songs that rock the world... and we don't need much more than that.

Her:
That said, music can be aggressive.
But we'll stick to the essentials.

We'll stick to our guns and hopefully, we won't have to fire.

Her:
Please know that you can ramble to me as much as you like.
I love it.

I know... me too.

Her:
Goodnight, love you.

And as we come to an end, we fall back into a small but familiar silence between us.

Me:
Goodnight, love you too.

-End-

I promise you I am safe every night.

I don't need a bodyguard.
I don't need a guardian angel.

I know you're out there somewhere away from me.

And that's okay.

I should tell you I still imagine myself in the hospital.

I sometimes wish I was in critical condition just so you would have a reason to talk to me without feeling weird, awkward or forced into it.

Although hospitalization is a weird way of forcing you to see me out of guilt.

Mostly because if I was dying...

You would show up only if you really did care.

It is not enough for me to just let you go.
I may have stopped talking, or stopped crying.
But I never stopped hurting.

And I reach out, I hope for you with all I can. I'm still on your side.

So if you end up at my hospital bedside...

I want to hear you say it.

That you care.
That you never stopped caring.
That you actually want me around.
That you want me to live.

Or just that you don't want me to die thinking that you didn't give a ****.

Because that's what this still feels like.

That's what walking away does to a person.

I'm safe here. I will not go anywhere.

But I still hold out optimism for you.
For us.

But I was told, "Things will not go back to the way they were."

So I guess that optimism is just ******* right?
It doesn't mean anything.

I know you wish I would just simply tell you this face to face.
But in all honesty...

I'm not brave.
I'm not as strong as you thought I was.

So I write instead.
You told me I could write to you anytime.
And you would be here.

But now you're gone.
And I can't do anything about it.

So I will continue to pray for your safety for as long as I can.

Because I don't know when I'll see you again.
And I've told you I fear the day when I don't.
You told me I would.
But that was before...

Things are different now.
And despite all the pain...

I'm still safe.
And I'm still...

Holding on.