Feelings return to those who own them.
🧠💼📄📄📄
They pay me to feel.
This is my work.
They hire me.
So they feel nothing.
I take what they avoid.
😐➡️😶
They pay me.
I grieve at funerals.
I take on their denial.
Their stress is mine.
Assignment.
Remorse. Anger. Fear. Regret.
😐➡️😶
But work ends.
My feelings do not.
They overlap.
Theirs and mine.
I cannot tell.
And I strain.
💔💔💔💔
No more real feelings.
No one feels either.
Not anymore.
I was hired to feel love.
I was hired to feel remorse.
I don’t know what to feel.
But they know again.
😐➡️😶
If you like this story, do join me on Patreon! Buy this blog a coffee — it keeps the words flowing and the lights Your kind donation via Paypal would be greatly appreciated!
