Rogue Spasms of Empathy

Often it is only by indirect signs that we discover that we aren’t doing nearly as well as we’ve fancied.

In watching DVDs I find I’m feeling all sorts of exaggerated empathy. If they fictional folk are sad so am I. If they laugh I’m happy: but too much so.

On a conscious level I’m serene. But such strong responses to simple pop culture creations to which I’m not really attached suggests otherwise.

Much of my life has been an attempt to not forgo my strongly emotional nature without surrendering to the potential pits into which I might fall. To strive for a neat balance between a too tender heart and rational analysis. Too many people - myself certainly included - confuse the latter with coldness.

I want detachment without frigidity. And passion without too much heartache (some I accept as part of the bargain).

But I seem to be slipping and coming near to falling into the crevice. That isn’t acceptable. I hope my ambitions of keeping all of myself alive aren’t to beyond my reach.