The eyes are the doorway to the soul. The only good thing that remains of humanity. A species who destroys and poisons everything we touch. Like a toxic sludge we ruin everything.
But there are a very select few. Known by science as an empath.
They feel emotions off others as if they are their own.
'We' feel energy as if it is a known element we can touch.
We feel it in the cemetery. Or old or abandoned buildings where souls wonder for eternity.
We feel the rage of the crowd in the supermarket. We feel the judgment and the hidden meanings in sentences off of the people who claim to be friends to us.
But we are a battery. We deplete. And in order to be recharged. We need to help. Every empath feels the urge to fix others problems.
But almost all of us. Are grounding at the bottom of the ocean. Or in a sea of acid.
But we streighten our spine and let our defiance take over.
We are strong. We have to be. So everyone else can be.
We carry burdons of people we don't even know. Just by looking at them.
We are a rare breed of pure understanding and love.
We unfortunately are dying out. In a world who wants to burn out.
Be kind to others. Most of you can't read under the eyes.
Most of you can't see the soul.
Most can't see the scream for help. Behind the smile of a stranger.
YOU ARE READING
A Fight With Depression
Short Story(Trigger Warnings) Do not read if you are bothered by reading very real everyday senarios such as suicide, self harm, and other things that tend to mend with having most mental illnesses. This book is a different book where every chapter is a short...
