in the words of Aklunvcyptoli… what is your strongest emotion, and why?
I think my ability to empathize has been a source of my pride. It’s one of the things I feel makes me unique from others. It may be arrogant for me to say I probably have an above-average level of empathy, being someone bound within my own skin. But based on my observations of other people’s actions, I’d say I’m pretty good at it, the exception being they may be silent about their observations, just like I am. Not that I’m afraid to express those thoughts. I just don’t find the need to unless it’s the right moment. Otherwise, I’d look even more arrogant.
Yeah, I’m definitely pretty self conscious. Perhaps it’s a side-effect of being highly empathetic. After all, I’m always looking out for how my actions may affect other people’s comfort, even if they’re not around. When I’m with my peers, for example, I hear some person criticizing some other, I’m not quick to join in. I’m wary about gossip, so I usually try to understand why the person being criticized may be acting the way they are, and why the critic may find that unpleasant. If I know the criticized person well, I may move forward and make my own judgement as to whether the critic is justified or not, whether they’re misunderstanding, or simply disagreeable.
It does make it hard (to choose a side), especially if I think I know the two people very well. I mean, well, here’s the thing I should probably address. To be fair, I have days where I’m focused on myself, or I’m tired and irritable. But when I’m calm and collected, or days where I’m in my creative groove, I start to think on a grand scale beyond just myself. And in that mode of thought, humans appear miniscule, and the volatility of our time here becomes apparent. Sorry, this is going to get a little awkwardly philosophical or something… Well, I guess you did ask—I’ll try not to worry too much.
If I had to… I guess the best way to describe it is this: to me, the people I pass by on the streets, the people I talk with at work, the people I hang out with, and the people I consider family, they’re all already dead. It is because I know where the journey will end, even if I don’t necessarily know when or how, that I feel this way. The very fact I don’t know the ‘when’ contributes heavily to this feeling. When I sometimes sit down and imagine what it would be like if someone of great importance to me were to disappear, the resulting emotion, the intensity of it, is great enough that I feel they’ve already left, even if they are still alive. I’m sure that, when it comes time that such a situation would actually occur, I would feel an emotion far different from the ones contrived from thought experiments. But it is that imagination, conducted within the own walls of my garden, that turns the hypothetical into reality.
Ultimately, by extension of thinking about the prospect of the passing of one close to me, I start to think about the passing of those all around me, even if its intensity is lesser. It is then when I realize that we’re all in the same, coming in and passing through. I cannot escape it. Empathy will not allow it. It may sound depressing, but at the same time, it is liberating. Liberating that, even if it is biased, I am able to relate to another’s feelings before I’ve experienced it myself, and in other ways, to the best of my ability, understand another’s experience, even if I may not ever be put in such a position. And it is liberating to know that, in one way or another, we are all experiencing the cycle of life together. And ultimately, it’s liberating to think I am capable of such a discourse.