Feel

              Sometimes I wonder if I am normal.  Though I know not what “normal” actually is.  But is my imagination normal and like everyone else’s?  Does everyone imagine as vividly as I or is my imagination somewhat accelerated beyond that which is “normal”?  When someone tells me of their pain, of their sadness, their sorrow, I feel it as my own.  I hurt for them as though it were myself that felt this way.  Other people’s sadness can affect me in a way I cannot describe.  Although I remain happy, there is a part of me that hurts deeply for the people in my life that are hurting.  I cannot explain the way it feels.  But maybe this is the way everyone feels and I need not try to explain.  I want to help people.  I want to be there people.  And so often I feel as though I don’t help at all.  There are times when I feel as though I only make things worse.  And yet even then I cannot seem to stop trying to help.  What makes me feel so strongly about people?  What causes this great emotion to arise within me about things that at times do not concern me at all?  I cannot help but imagine how people feel; for imagine why they feel that way; imagine what I would do if I felt that way.

I cry when I am sad.  That’s not terribly abnormal.  But I cry when other people are sad.  I’m not sure that that is quite as normal as the other.  But it’s the way I am.  I feel emotion strongly – concerning my own life and concerning others’ lives.  I feel my sadness; I feel their sadness.  I feel.  I feel so strongly.  And yet I would not change the way I feel.  Ever.  For although I do not actually know that I help sometimes, I want to be able to be there for people.  And if it is through an overactive imagination that I can do so, then so be it.