Tiring.
My empathy is tiring.
Aching.
My heart is aching.
Racing.
My pulse is racing.
I keep repeating to myself that we cannot control how others feel.
If I know that to be true, why is it so hard to swallow the lump in my throat when people are just angry. Mae they aren’t mad at you. He had a bad day at work… She is fighting with her wife. Mae it has nothing to do with you… then why do I flinc...