The act of help

Empathy, what can I say about that more that I seem to feel it more that many people I know? Maybe my life story, the way I experienced it made me realize I don't want anyone to get in the same situation. Maybe this is what triggered the empathy in me. I wrote the other day that I am expert in taking other people's weight and putting them on my shoulders. I must say I struggle on solving them, they make me suffer, but I keep on doing it. Wondering for the why would I put myself in this kind of situation got me to a conclusion. Maybe the pleasure I receive on seeing the other people relieved when passing their weight to me makes me strong enough to survive the pain that they bring to me. Maybe I feel that I am more prepare to handle them considering all my passed struggles and the fact that I survived. My empathy brings me pleasure even if I don't realize it sometimes. It is not easy to survive alone, we are community animals. We need to help one another and the act of helping shall keep us strong enough not to fall, to keep on walking. I cannot understand people in general, but nevertheless I keep on trying to bring moments of happiness in their lives even if I don't receive anything visible in exchange. Just the fact that I am helping makes me feel better about myself and keeps me going forward.

The same old story

I am the kind of person that don't take the words said to me as they are, but I interpret them accordingly to the person speaking. And this makes me take much more than I deserve. Oh words, how can they be so harmful? I keep on hearing them on my ears and trying to get the same interpretation as at the time I heard them. Not an easy task when thinking of them, makes you think about all your feelings. And the why that never leaves me alone. I grew up in a very closed minded society where I was taught what I could do not based on my skills, but on the way people would talk about it afterwards. Fortunately, I was a rebel from an early age. So stubborn that I couldn't just take the words and not ask the why. The skeptical was born and after that, nothing could be changed. I am part of the group of melancholics. We see the world in a different form, we see life in a different form. We take words and rethink them over and over again. They hunt us like ghosts. There isn't that were just words, nothing more. They will always have to mean something. Well, more random thoughts that came to my mind. I leave you only this.

Who am I? I am the person living my story...

I say "I'm sorry!" even it is not my fault. I say "Excuse me!" even if I am not the one in the way. I say "Thank you!" even if I am the that should be thanked for something. I believe in people goodness even when all proves the opposite. You can call me Naive, but I call myself a Dreamer!