A rather silent day, calm.
People moving around close to each other,
But essentially in their own separate worlds.
And I, in mine.
But unfortunately (or not?)
My world absorbs the energies of others’.
Their vibe seeps into my skin and makes a home in my body.
X’s life is sad today, she probably cried in the shower. (I want to help but she has a smile here)
Y is just tired.
It isn’t visible but he hasn’t slept for a while now.
(I want to help but he won’t let me)
Z is numb; his energy stagnating but
Shattering.(I want to help but he doesn’t open up)
I just sit there.
Filling up to the brim.
Like a wine glass on a Saturday night.
Helplessly stationary, but bustling with waves inside.
I get full and a little more.
Enough for me to spill-over
And make myself a mess.
Saturated to that extent
How doesn’t one explode?
How does one explain the whys and stick to the don’ts?
How do I say that I’m sad
But nothing really happened to me?
How do I make sense to you,
When you don’t even believe in energies?
How do I not spill-over every night?
How do I make you stay?
When I’m clueless how to make you understand,
The intensity of an empath’s day ~ Devika Sinha
So much conjecture about who “real women” are, I thought I should participate in this trendy defining as well.
Real women are the ones with sharp edges (and tongues) that cut through patriarchy and make it bleed.