My therapist says I’m too empathetic for my own good. That I pick up on other people’s emotions and feelings and then I feel them myself even when it hurts. And she’s right. That’s why I have to separate myself from others, from even life sometimes … to keep safe the soft core that shines when I find people like me … who are good but broken. Who want nothing but happiness. Who would give you their shoes, or their stories, or sometimes even their own precious, collected shards. The shards that they’ve worked for, and love, and treasure. And sometimes they do give them. And sometimes you give
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