Novel & Cerita Empathy Poetry

Still chose empathy. Still chose to become the kind of presence their younger selves once searched for in the dark.

Well then, he shouldn’t have come. I’ve always practiced shielding myself from others, so I’m not constantly overwhelmed by their emotions. The words slip through the wind, and I hear Nana’s voice. An empath is deadly. You can influence the emotions of others and vice versa. The only thing I’m capable of feeling right now is fear, grabbing hold of the fear in my heart I just push it onto him. He chokes and grabs unto his head, the bow falling to the ground. My free hand curls into a fist at my side as I shove more fear unto his mind, He cries out a moment later startling the other two.

Celeste The morning came slow and muted, the kind of light that looked half-asleep as it filtered through my curtains. I had barely slept. My mind had been full of gold-inked words and diagrams that refused to leave. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that book again the sketches of the mind, the symbols for thought and control, and that single phrase that had branded itself into my memory: “Empathy without boundaries becomes madness.” It looped in my head like a prayer and a curse.

My body shivered as the coldness touches my skin, the silence was deafening to my ears. "So pure..." I could feel his long dainty fingers caressed one side of my face. Then out of nowhere, the sadness hits me, tears started falling from my eyes, my chest hurts as the pain was becoming mentally unbearable. I was sobbing, my body shook with a sheer intense sense of loss.

The butterflies danced in her stomach, making her so bothered and need for more but suppressed and start with the poem; "In the depths of ocean, where everything defies the law of motion, is where I have placed my emotions, in hopes that the wave will carry it's commotion. And now I am free from the ability to feel From the ability to be hurt so deep So I watch as the waves help me heal. Because if I carried my emotions I would simply breakdown and to the depths of the sea I would drown." She smiled even though she's not facing him, he could feel it. She's proud of what she created and have it memorised in her head. The poem is deep but very beautiful to his ears especially as she read it ou

The revelations about his struggles filled me with a deep sense of empathy. My heart ached for him, my desire to offer comfort and support growing stronger with each passing moment. To wrap him in a warm embrace, to offer him the comfort and support he needed. I yearned to be there for him, to be his strength, his solace, his guiding light, a gesture of solidarity and understanding. I wanted him to know that he was not alone, that I was just here for him, no matter what. The longing was intense, a powerful force that tugged at my heartstrings. I wrapped my arms around myself as my eyes closed. A bittersweet smile played on my lips and my mind conjured up the image of Hades, his handsome face

She wrapped me in a hug so tight it nearly knocked the air out of my lungs. I laughed, hugging her back, but then—something shifted. For the briefest moment, under her bright energy and warmth, I felt it. A pulse of something jagged and raw bleeding through, my empath ability was always open. Pain. Heartache. A hollow carved into her soul by storms I couldn’t see. She had gone through hell and somehow come out smiling, but that smile was a mask. A shield. I held her tighter, whispering against her hair, “Tomorrow, then. I’ll help you get your things.”

Just books and silence and no one asking questions. That's where I found it. A book about bloodline gifts. Old, leather bound, the pages yellow with age. I almost put it back but something made me open it yo read. Empathy. The ability to sense and influence emotions. Rare. Dangerous if untrained. Runs in specific bloodlines. I flipped through the pages, looking at the family names listed. Most I didn't recognize. Old packs, old names, some probably extinct by now. Then I saw it. (Riversong).

I wanted it to be there forever before the bullies and dirty humanity tainted and spoilt it. Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without words and never stops at all. That was my favorite line from Emily Dickson and her poems. She was a poet and someday I wanted to be a poet like her too. No matter how dumb I was, cramming her lines and relating to them had never been a problem to me, she was my hero. I related to her in every way possible. My life was a mirror of hers, except that people loved her, people wanted to talk to her, her father didn’t want to lose her, she even had a best friend who kept her diary.

“That’s an advantage for his enemies.” Some cry out in pain, others show no response at all, and this was why empathy was so vital, to allow ourselves to feel what others were feeling rather than opting for shallow sympathies. And it was these moments that build and define who we were, that brought the sculpture of our future self from the clay of our youth. Right now, Xerxes’s unexpected words were bringing pain.