Being Super-Empaths: A Blessing or a Curse…

Being Super-Empaths: A Blessing or a Curse…

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Being an empath is not a gift… it’s not a curse, either. It’s both: A cursed gift. It can’t be earned or learned. You’re simply born that way…

 

“Once an empath, always an empath.”

 

My earliest memory of my place in this world regarding the reason of my existence in this universe was to make people around me smile or laugh. That was a 5-year-old boys definition of happiness. I would charge up with each joyous gesture as if refueled in the most environmentally-friendly way possible, and if people around me got “happy”, I would be, too. And if I witnessed something bad happening on TV films or news, I would cry like hell. I was soon labelled as an “emotional” kid due to my infrequent bursts into tear, never taking into account all the laughter I’d created around me.

 

As I grew up and got old enough to be involved in romantic relationships, my reason of existence had evolved into making my partners and friends truly happy as I learned my lesson that smiles and laughs could easily be faked. I had become a non-lethal, emotional vampire making its prey ultra happy to feed on. But, I wasn’t sucking the bliss out of them, I was simply planting it at first, then nourishing it, mimicking it, and finally duplicating the emotion for my own personal use. And like every other empath, I was drawn to mentally unstable people with emotional scars or f*cked up minds (or rather they picked me; as empaths are always excellent listeners minus the judging or simply just because we’re “beacons of hope” for the lost and confused). I had declared a losing war against all the negative feelings that a human mind could house.

 

As I reached my middle ages, making people happy became a near-impossible job. The world we were living in, with human connection gradually fading away, was making damn sure about that. Seeds of happiness (or simply reasons of happiness) were very rare to come by in other people let alone successfully completing the whole process of planting, nourishing, mimicking and duplication. Then, it hit me!

 

Super-Empaths like myself, can never generate feelings on their own. We are simply master duplicators of feelings. Meaning, we could never be happy (or have any other feeling) on our own unless we make someone happy first. It’s a hard to swallow fact, because if we can’t make anyone happy, we start feeling how they feel regardless of the physical distance in-between. Once a friend told me to stay away as she did not want me to make me feel down by her negative feelings. Well, feelings just don’t walk to infect… They teleport.

 

“When an empath tells someone that they know how they feel… they are partially right as empaths do not know how people feel, they feel how people feel.”

 

So, I feel Super-Empaths are not human as they they (we) lack the ability to create original emotions within. We are dependent on other people to be able to experience those duplicated, alien feelings…

 

We are a dying breed… and will cease to exist as the last speck of bliss withers away from this world…

Having a solid long-term memory: A blessing or a curse?

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It’s weird (and not in a good way) to be able to remember your 3rd birthday celebrations when you are a few months short of celebrating your 40th. And when it’s just not the special days of your infancy that you remember, it feels like a curse. Falling face down from the feeding chair, screaming upon seeing a common house fly from up close for the first time or remembering every gibberish word of the neighbor complimenting how smart I was. I’m the only one in the family who remembers all these junk memories and that makes me…feel lonely. I do feel a little lucky, though. I don’t remember anything prior to my third year in this life and I don’t remember what I had for lunch on a specific date either. Errr…at least not every day of my past life. (The sloppy Joe I had for lunch on 22 September 1991 was exceptional! It deserves a mention :))

Growing up with this blurse (blessing-curse) was pretty difficult, too. Especially, my love life was ruined; remembering every single fight as well as the good stuff while my significant other(s) were able to remember the not so good parts. I never missed an anniversary though, so that was a huge plus. Not being able to forget how I felt after a good night or a good fight, while my partner(s) having fading away feelings was the downside.

Anyway, the best part of this whole memory mojo, was that I became a writer; using a lifetime of memories and retelling them in my stories. Perhaps now, others won’t forget or easily remember what they had  forgotten…

P.S: The song that goes with this entry is somehow “Sweet Child of mine” by GNR.