Compassion. It is my curse. Some say it’s not ; “It’s a gift.” It is also my asset. Compassion is in my nature, and it makes people happy. If they are happy, then I’m happy…but…
Sometimes I grow TO attach to certain people I love. When I realize I can’t help or be there with them in the end, I become depressed and don’t know what I’m feeling anymore. My compassion fuels that type of sorrow. I hate feeling so fucked up. Even though I’m still hurting on the inside, I don’t reveal it on the outside. I manage to smile to hide it sometimes. I cant blame anyone and the reason: There is no one to blame. I’m to compassionate to blame anyone for making me feel this way. I fall in love to easily and that is not ENTIRELY good.
The good side is that I make people who feel alone not alone anymore. Those who want to kill themselves because they don’t get the love that they so rightly deserve; I want to show them that people out there do care. Is it so wrong to be over-compassionate, I ask you? I love to help people who need it and I love to heal the broken hearted. People who feel alone…I am here for them if they want the company.
Lately, I have these feelings that I can’t really explain or can’t figure out. Ever since I read some things about a friend that is living a hell, I have had these feelings of guilt or fear (or something in that mix of that). I want to protect her and my compassion drives it to become reality. But I cant physically do that…I’m to far away and to weak to do anything about it. Frustration sets in because I can’t really do anything to protect her. All I can do is talk to her via internet…but even that is so hard to do. I have school to go to and I cant get on the web during weekdays; only weekends and school holidays. While at school, I’ve lately have been thinking how she is doing and getting less focused on school work. I think about her almost every everyday. I pray for her every night so that she is protected. I’m doing all I possibly can right now.
As I’ve said, compassion is in my nature, but I sometimes beat myself up, and it hurts some to see me doing that. In turn, it makes me feel worse because I’m hurting them… I have even pushed past the breaking point and carved my finger nails into my skin. I don’t do it anymore, but it’s the worst. But I still am on the balance of emotional and sanity…
This year I’m making my Confirmation (if you don’t know what it is, look it up. It’s a Catholic term). The saint I picked (or hoping to pick. I’m still deciding.) is Saint Raphael Archangel. He healed and helped (protected) people. I want to heal and protect those who are sick or are insane (or going insane) because I have the compassion to.
My compassion. An asset, my curse, and my weakness.
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