Petri Dish

I am a petri dish. Once touched, the bacteria grows. Becomes me.

The pain of my lovers is the bacteria, enveloping my dish of empathy.

The mold is becoming my own pain. One that cannot be stopped.

I've come to the point where I just can't deal with it anymore. I have to stop taking care of everyone. I need to take care of myself. Baggage was once endearing in the sense that I subconsciously wanted to tame it, fix it, but I cannot. I just can't. I can't make someone's past go away. I can't fix them. I can't mend them. I have to stop trying. Stop wasting my time on lost causes whilst creating baggage of my own.

I have noticed a trend that I'm attracted to darker personas, people with hurt, people who need sunshine. I am the sunshine. But I can't shine for the both of us. My sunshine will eventually be traded in for pain and helplessness. It gets drained to the point that I've nearly lost it. Without it, I am not me. I am not that person they originally met. Not that same person they were captivated by.

This is all very hard for me.

Being in one's presence instantly infects me. Their feelings are highly contagious to me. It overcomes me and changes me. Like a disease, I've become like them. 

My empathy has made me skillful yet extremely vulnerable to others. My filter only works so little. Helplessness further brings my immunity down. The pain, the mold, begins to grow like wildfire. I am paralyzed. I take this pain, but not away from them. It has only multiplied.

This is a sickness I don't handle well. I have to call in to take a day off of life. Symptoms include silence, lacrimation, sadness, emptiness, despair, and melancholy.

Until I become completely devoid of it, my sunshine will always want to find a way in. Any crack or crevice that it can shine on. It is powerful that I cannot stop it. But not powerful enough to sustain two of us. It is either for me, or for you.

But I need my fire.

I need to hang onto what is left of me.