I don’t remember when or how it all started. All I remember is the pain. Constant. Blinding. Unbearable.

One wonders why sex is a crucial part of life and apart of what love is about. If you were to look past the obvious, you would realize that sex is a bonding experience. To allow one to get inside another; to feel their blood course through your own veins; to steal their breath and allow your own proof of existence to mingle together; to hear their heart and yours beat in unison; to taste one’s tears of joy and fulfillment. You’re left unified, apart of each other in more ways than one, and in some cases a new life springs forth.

What I endure is like that of sex. I enter another being, not psychically. I can smell their blood, hear their breath, feel their heartbeat, see their thoughts. The only difference is… I feel no pleasure. Only pain. I get into another by a simple touch, and it’s not intended to be intimate.

When I’m in a sea of people, I feel as if I’m drowning; complete chaos erupts in my head. I can hear them, but no words are spoken. It’s defeaning, hearing words that were meant to be unsaid.

I know what you’re thinking right now… you’re wondering what I’m talking about and if I’m going crazy. That’s what they all think. That’s how I feel at times. Scratch that… I know nothing of how I feel because another being consumes me, I don’t exist.

I can no longer touch as I please, for the second I make psychical contact with another, I endure everything they endure. When they laugh, I laugh… when they cry, I cry… when they hurt, I hurt. I’m able to help those who are weak and cannot carry their burdens. I’m able to hear the silent words of those who are crying out. I’m able to interfere in one’s life and possibly save them… all by a simple touch.