I've been there a few times in the worst rounds of the hand I've been dealt. I have a feeling it is something that nearly every (if not every) single individual faces at one point or another. It is the most black devastation that one can ever feel. I will, over time, recount some of these events on this blog. However, this night focused on the immense sadness of one of my very best friends.
I am far too empathetic for my own well-being. For some reason, being a chronic sufferer and all, I feel as though it is ok when I am hurting, but an absolute tragedy for others (those who actually deserve it and didn't just break a nail or something of the sort). This is something I have been working on curbing, but it is a long and slow process.
As a result, I feel as though it is my need to say my thoughts on the matter. This usually causes a rise in a situation where I should more than often keep my mouth shut. I like to think that I can help, that all my years of research and suffering can somehow lessen the pain of others. The worst thing is that this is not the case.
I just...like to stand up for what I believe in. After so many years of being negative, I'm trying my best to look on the bright side. The process of watching others dwell just breaks me up inside, as if I'm watching the shell of myself that I occasionally have to deal with.
Oh well, this is an issue that I'm going to continue to debate. I'm thinking for a little while, my deepest thoughts on the matter will be withheld.