And today's main dish: sympathy empathy

Growing up, on occasion you hear about and experience those around you who die early

too soon, or however you want to label it

and for a moment in your busy lives, we feel the pain of the person, something beyond the usual sigh of sadness and the “I'm sorry to hear that”

There is on occasion an instance where the pain in your travels anchors you where you stand, sometimes digging into the gravel and rips your world apart

I'm on the curb watching a wreck, the debris banging me the hood that rests on the head is down...tears

leaking past the bridge of my nose.....what can I do for him?

I heard something that shook my world up for someone who until a couple of months ago....disturbed me...his presence enraged me.....I bet he never knew....I hope he never does....and now all I can do is be one of those faces with a genuine smile, a genuine handshake, wishing him well....

you make these character assumptions about yourself but until you are faced with real circumstance...you never know how you are going to react..these are the moments that define your character

I hear something about someone who I have minimal contact with...and I was crushed....beat down, confused, scared....didn't know what to do

I couldn't fully enjoy things I usually do, and still can't to some degree ..since I just found out

nothing I can do or say can undo but if I figure I put these words out in the air...they can help someone

From what little I know of you

you are a good person

I really care man

I wish you the best...

I hope you live 4ever, love 4ever

enjoy it all

If I could carry your pain and dump it into the deepest sea I would

I have this very strange outlook on life.....

and the only way I can truly describe it is to fully explain it....in all its obscurity.....

A young man neatly shoves himself into a crack of a door that is provided by the bank member that is ahead of him. The door's greeter looks at the man's insecure stride, coupled with head being down and tries to catch eye contact. Once he does, the greeter scratches the front of his gray bitten pile of hair and cracks a smile. "Hello, Ronald", he utters in the quiet environment. The young man looks shocked to see that the man knew his man, only to remember that his nametag from work sprinkled that small bit of random information. As Ronald nods in acknowledgement, he peers over at the long line of employees, parents, and random folk that stood in the long bank line to get helped. He takes a deep breath, grabs a deposit slip, and shuffles into the line. There is a quiet roar of chatter impaling the silence. It seems that the speech comes in pulsating waves, slipping in and out of deathly quiet.

Ronald stands discomforted, trying to find a bare corner of the room to stare at to help the time pass. With each customer at the very front that moves forward, the line feverishly eats each space with a small shuffle. With any interaction between teller and customer that took too long resulted in a sigh in unison by the anticipating customers. To not seem like he was beyond the grip of the masses, Ronald also indulges in the guilty pleasure of punishing a procrastinating customer with a sigh as well. Prior to this action he hadn't taken the time to look at the other portions of the line that fed that sprouted out to the counter of five tellers. As his eyes searched the fellow bank members, a familiar female face has her eyes fixed on his. He blankly stares at the foggy face. It clears up with each second that comes and passes. The nose, the mouth, the eyes. "Ronald?", the voice utters. "Uh....Keisha?", Ronald replies.

Ronald:"Yeah, its me. How's your life?"

Keisha: "Good, I graduated from Bowie a couple of weeks ago and I have a job lined up. How are you? Last time I saw you, you were pretty heavy..."

Ronald: "Yeah, I lost a bit of weight and my life is horrible. I lost the weight because I'm a heroine addict. This is my last check from my job doing in retail. I was fired for stealing and I'm probably going to have this check course through my veins within the hour."

The surrounding customers are discomforted by this comment, eyeing Keisha to see what her response will be.

Keisha: Hmm, sorry to hear that.

Ronald: Don't pity me, I wouldn't pity me if I was in a good situation like you.

Keisha: I'll try not to.

Ronald: Thanks.

______________________________________________

Crazy interaction huh? For the sake of helping you fully understanding all of it....all of it...the whole chest full of emotions .....is to understanding an underlying point of this whole scenario. Although it was a fictional account, it had a blending of some truth. I have this firm belief that no one is listening to me, that my every word has no significance when it hits the air......

I don't know what point it became real.....I feel like since my significance in this world is minimal, so are my words. I can say absolutely anything and it will inflict not any pain/indifference/happiness/anything because it does not matter.

The most practical example I can give is me speaking in a stadium of thousands of roaring fans after a touchdown has been scored.

In fact, because I feel like my words have this insignificance, I often try to push the envelope because I doubt that I'll be acknowledged....

There is a polar opposite symptom that comes with this affliction as well. When there aren't these moments of simply not caring, comes a form of social laziness. It handicaps my ability to opening articulate my feelings like I would like to. Even if I express something , it isn't quite affective enough.

I would love to try to dissect the madness...in long, vivid detail but to summarize my self-analysis

I've very seldom had my words validated.....given significance in what I refer to as "real situations" aka moments that count aka times when my emotions needed the assurance that your presence was appreciated

that a thought that I had was interesting/compelling

that I was a fairly intelligent person

etc.......

I was listening to the song "All in my Head" by The Fray and the first verse is pretty interesting

I never knew
I never knew that everything was falling through
That everyone I knew was waiting on a cue
To turn and run when all I needed was the truth
But that's how it's got to be
It's coming down to nothing more than apathy
I'd rather run the other way than stay and see
The smoke and who's still standing when it clears and

Everyone knows I'm in
Over my head
Over my head
With eight seconds left in overtime
She's on your mind
She's on your mind

She is my pain, my pleasure. The love of my life. Known her all my life and yet she's not changed since I first met her. Safe, secure, comforting, poisonous. How do you shake something you've had all your life? That you can't take a blood test to identify and words are all I have to suffice to diagnose my dilemma

Something very interesting happened today that furthered this feeling of anonymity

Well....I've been working on music for a little bit, and without giving away too much information, I was putting an album together. It was suppose to involve local artists over my beats. There was a local artist that was fairly popular in the underground scene. I met him face to face and in the studio we agreed on a beat for him to write to that would be on my album. To make a long story short, we didn't talk to him for a while. About 4 months later, I was informed that the beat that given to him was is now on the radio.

I was excited at first but I got saddened......after a while because

A. no information about its use was given about the beat

B. I wasn't credited for making the beat...

The good feelings of elation were drained from my body....I know deep down what happened and I know my accomplishment but it still bothers me now....

I realize through this experience that I want credit.....I don't want to be anonymous and I want to be noticed.......I was people to think I'm smart, attractive, worthy of praise....

but the ultimate question is Do I feel like that about myself?

hmmmm.....interesting indeed