Sometimes, the weight of the world feels heavier than my own heart.
I absorb emotions like a sponge, but whos there to soak me dry?
In a world full of noise, my silence often shouts the loudest.
I can feel the pain of others, yet I struggle to voice my own.
Every time I give my energy away, a piece of me stays behind.
Empathy is a gift, but sometimes it feels more like a burden.
My heart wears the shadows of those I care for, even when they’re not around.
Drained from caring, yet unable to stop; it’s the paradox of an empath.
When the lights dim, its my soul that flickers the most.
I can sense your sorrow, but who senses mine?
Theres a fine line between being there for others and losing myself in their chaos.
I collect the tears of others, but who collects my own?
In a crowded room, I can feel alone, burdened by the energy of those around me.
I wish I could turn off my empathy like a light switch, just for a moment.
Caring deeply can sometimes feel like walking through a storm without an umbrella.
Every emotional exchange depletes my spirit, leaving behind a weary echo.
My heart is a canvas painted with the emotions of others.
I give so much that sometimes I forget to refill my own cup.
Empathy is my superpower, but it often leaves me feeling super drained.
I am the mirror reflecting your pain, but who reflects my light?
Feeling too deeply can be a beautiful curse; a dance with shadows.
With every act of kindness, I leave a piece of my soul behind.
In the tapestry of life, I often weave the threads of sorrow.
My sensitivity is my strength, but it also becomes my Achilles’ heel.
I may be strong for others, but sometimes I wish for someone to be strong for me.
The more I give, the less I have; yet, I cant help but share.
Empaths often wander the world like ghosts, feeling everything yet unseen.
Sometimes the best thing I can do is retreat into my own silence.
I carry the burdens of others like stones in my pocket.
In a sea of emotions, I often feel like I’m drowning in empathy.
Caring for others is my instinct; caring for myself is my challenge.
My heart is a sanctuary for the broken, yet abandoned by the weary.
Every connection leaves an imprint; some are beautiful, others just heavy.
In trying to heal others, I sometimes forget about my own wounds.
I feel your joy like sunlight, but I also feel your pain like shadows.
The deeper my empathy runs, the more fragile my spirit becomes.
My soul whispers comfort, but my heart often cries for understanding.
I navigate emotions like waves; at times I ride high, and at times I sink.
To be an empath is to wear a heart outside of ones chest.
I am the ear that listens, but who will listen to the sound of my silence?
Being attuned to others can feel like walking on a tightrope, precariously balanced.
I want to gather the broken pieces of the world, but Im afraid of cutting my hands.
Sometimes, I need to unplug from the worlds emotions to reconnect with my own.
I may shine a light on others paths, but my own can feel dim.
Empathy is a beautiful dance, but occasionally my feet grow tired.