Is empathy a gift? Or is it a curse?
I’ve always thought that being able to connect with people was a gift, a gift that everybody would at least have. I thought that people, when they’ve matured to a certain level, would be able to see the emotions on another’s face and would understand.
But I was wrong. Empathy IS a gift. And not everybody has it.
I’ve been there for friends, listened and helped. I tried to be there, even in times when I couldn’t. But at the midst of caring for others and listening to others, have I forgotten something?
Perhaps I’ve left myself behind?
There used to be people who would sit down and listen, and there used to be those whom I knew would be there for me. But now I’m not so sure anymore. I could put away my troubles and tend to the problems of others. That perhaps I must accept is a rare gift that not many would have. And I have to make peace with the fact that I shouldn’t be looking for something like that.
We’re so consumed by our own world sometimes that we forget that there’s a bigger one out there. And when we bury ourselves in sorrow and self-pity, we forget that there are other venues that could use that effort of self-pity. Had we spent less time crying and more time caring, the world would be a better place, won’t it? But that was not to be. The world is inherently sorrowful because empathy is a gift. And a rare one at that. And the ability to put others before oneself, is an extinct gene, weeded out by the needs of a selfish community.
I hope I turn into Peter Petrelli. 
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