The Divine Emotions Factory

The Divine Emotions Factory
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Somewhere over the rainbow… in the divine emotions factory…. naked bodies of various races, sexes and builts with freshly installed souls move on an angelic conveyor belt, waiting for basic and advanced emotions to be imprinted into their existence. The invisible tattooing of the soul… The final ingredients to be implemented before we’re dispatched into the battlegrounds called life… In full armour… To take place in a losing battle…

 

Each body with a semi-blank soul armed only with fear, surprise and disgust reaches the ultimate needle at the end of its short journey… where more advanced emotions like jealousy, wrath and happiness (P.S: Paul Ekman was wrong.) are engraved… But, just like a tri-colour ink cartridge that went totally dry, the needle penetrates the soul with no outcome other than pain…

 

The angel in charge must have taken a piss. They pee, too… The damage is done in pee time… Where did you think all that rain came from? (It’s a pity that cheesiness is just built into every soul by default…)

 

Just before the dispatch, the horrendous error is acknowledged… It would be like sending an egg-shell-minded,defenseless child into a warzone. But, luckily there’s a hack:

 

Jealousy: Ignored completely…
Wrath: Rerouted to self…
Happiness: Reprogrammed to be copied from other souls…

 

An empath is born…

 

But the world is still not a better place…

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…

Love does not need a picture…

Someone…

Show me the existence of wordless communication, where sweet looks and gentle touches do the talking…

Turn me into a bedroom mirror, so I can watch you fall into sleep every night…and wake up with every light…

Equip me with a brand new collection of a 1000 words of love to describe my never-ending feelings…

Allow me to enclose you all over in my octopus arms…

Kiss me so deeply, sucking the air in until it runs out in my lungs…

Build me someone immune to infinite cuddles…if you can’t be the one…

And, if that’s the case… then,

Rip my soul in two…so that I can be sure that someone capable of true love like me, exists in this realm…


P.S: Lol….the first letter of each line, spells out STEAK BAR! Perhaps, my true love…

Molecular (The story of tears)

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This is the story of a molecule; a molecule in a tear drop. Tiny, yet powerful when amassed with its millions of fellows, like an angry mob acting in a disharmony of unison. You, I, the eye creates it when emotions go wild and out of control. It’s joined by others instantly upon its creation and altogether they begin their downfall journey, gradually flowing through the salt mines until they reach a tiny opening which they could barely squeeze through. And the excitement begins, sliding down at an increasing pace with the help of gravity; going over hills and through the burnt bushes on the cliff edge. The free fall begins for the remaining few not subdued on the way. It’s sweet while it lasts but the impact is hard and they splash away from each other and leak into the soft ground beneath. They are shaken but they have survived, providing life force to a blooming flower, proving life still goes on.