Stop. Listen to me.

I'm tired and emotional from television that makes my empathy go haywire so I'm writing as therapy. It's really cringe and awful and unedited so there's your warning; read at your own risk.

"You have a blessing."

Was that what this was called? A blessing? Her hands pulled at her hair desperately because no. What she was experiencing wasn't a blessing. Blessings did not make you want to carve your heart out so you didn't feel anymore. That's not what a blessing did. It couldn't be.

And suddenly there it was again, that paralyzing spasm that was too much to handle. Her legs threatened to give way beneath her as they quivered at the newfound torture. It was a whole new level of agony. Something you couldn't claw out of yourself or numb with medicine.

It was stark, raving derangement that nobody could be relieved of naturally.

Tears foamed at her eyes and her fingers hesitated over her chest, nails dug into where her heart should be, topping off other scars from preceding attempts to remove the rapidly beating muscle. "Stop," she whimpered. She pleaded.

Something, somebody, grabbed onto her hand, drawing it away from her skin. Muffled words lamented in her ear, telling her words that never quite reached her. Honestly? The failed comforts only made it worse.

"Stop. Don't you see what you're doing?" she screamed in return. "Stop!"

The pain... the pain was only enhanced. In fact, it swelled, burning into her thorax and leaving a brand that she could never get rid of.

Large arms wrapped around her, cradling her injured body as they rocked back and forth. She'd fallen to the ground, although unsure when, and the carpet rubbed against her skin, scrubbing away at the flesh as she struggled against the hold. "Let go," She begged, her mouth as dry as cotton.

They didn't.

How could they know to listen? Nobody understood what it was like. The sheer anguish she was feeling? Nobody could understand.

"Back off. Stop..." her voice trembled. "...stop feeling."

They were at a funeral.

The girl crying on the floor wasn't in pain. Not a pain you could see. It didn't come from injuries or illness. It came from her "blessing" to feel other people's emotions. To go through the pain fervor brought to others so they didn't have to. It came from her empathy.

And it hurt like hell.

"You know what truly aches? Having so much inside you and not having the slightest clue of how to pour it out." -Karen Quan

Told you it was bad. Now give yourself a pat on the back and don't hate me please. Thank you and I love you.