Empath by Rocky
Empathic prowess in itself is a misnomer, it implies that in being an empath one will be empathetic, nothing could be further from the truth. I expect it is much like reading auras with the colors oozing and changing tone one flowing into the next with no fixed boundaries, except an aura reader can look away. I can not.
Being a sun child, I can not even count on the ebb and flow of the moon for much relief. The press of multihued feeling is present at all times and the concentration required to isolate my own personal emotions is taxing at best. I avoid crowds the way a redhead shuns direct sunlight, I prefer not to be psychically burned by over exposure.
I suppose that all this could be a creation of my questionable sanity but I think in carrying this perhaps imagined burden I do cling to sanity itself. Or maybe I'm just very good at covering up how really crazy I truly am. None the less, I am aware of the people around me in a special way that I suppose few others are, and I pay the price.
The hardest thing there is to cope with is the duality of some of the people I come in contact with where their external and internal intent clash so violently I am sickened almost to the point of physical reaction. This is not to be confused with the normal duality I find in most people who are in fact only trying to fool themselves. I find that to be almost refreshing for it reflects upon my own nature. What unease's me is a smile and a congenial handshake that is accompanied by a presence of indifference and irritation, this is a mild example.
I am not by any uncertain terms a mind reader. I do not pretend to know why a person is feeling the way they are only that they are feeling. Some times, I think it might be handy to know why a person is feeling a certain emotion at me and doing the opposite but I can not. Like predicting the weather, a dowser can say it will rain tomorrow but has little to do with preventing it. It simply happens.
Getting back to people with two-faced emotions I find it interesting that it is prevalent mostly in men but when found in women it is usually much more acidic. I (the big coward that I am) run away from such women and give them a wide berth when ever possible. How can I describe it? It is like opening a beautifully wrapped package only to find scalding dog vomit, putrid and painful at the same time.
There are certain fun aspects. My favorite game is "Are they really fond of each other?" When I spot a couple in obvious rapture with one another, I saddle over to find out if it's love or is it Memorex. More often than not it's infatuation of carnal lust, but oh the joy of it when real love is taking place. These reflections are not altered one wit whether or not the love takes place during an extended necking session or a royal scrap. So put that in your pipe and smoke it.
Just what purpose this ability is supposed to have I have no idea, it has alienated me so that I spend a good deal of my time either alone or in the company of those people who are honest emotionalists (for lack of a better term). Funny thing about these guys is that they often refer to themselves as "Bull-shitters" and tho' they are spinning a story as long as your arm, or just dreaming out loud, their feelings are a soothing balm to a tortured soul like me.
(c) 1998 S. Day