Wall of protection
If others are happy, I’m happy, which is why I actually enjoy waiting tables and stuff – I can provide a group of people with everything they would like, from coffee (important 😉 ) to food (less important 😉 ) to conversation, if there’s time. Servers eat last, but whether I’m hungry or not is totally insignificant to me right then. My needs come later. This is also why my primary love language is acts of service. (Imagine, that book of wishy-washy humbug actually came in handy!)
The opposite is also true, however. If others are sad or in pain I feel almost overly sorry for them. It often hurts less to be hurt myself than to see others hurt. Ever since I was a little kid, I couldn’t kill as much as an ant, a bee, a spider, anything. (Just recently I’ve learned to kill mosquitoes – not, however, without feeling a little sorry for them.) It’s not that it’s gross or anything, just that I’m too good at imagining how they must feel and not good enough at shutting that feeling out.
I can kill things, quickly, if they are suffering or going to suffer. I can watch things be killed – this I learned from my brothers, who taught me that for certain people, someone showing that bugs being tortured bothers them makes the game even more fun. And trying to rescue the poor things erases all hope of pity.
I was told once that this showed I had a soft heart. And how exactly is that supposed to be a good thing? If it’s soft, it’s easily hurt. I try to protect it, put a shell around, but you can’t keep everything out and the things I let through can hurt me like nobody’s business.