I hear yelling from anyone and I’m taken back to my childhood. I see a child cry and remember my little brothers tears as I held my own. I see the bruises on a person’s body and my chronic pain reminds me of my own. I see the cuts on my friend’s arm and I graze my own through my shirt with my fingertips, knowing full well the pain I was in during every cut. I hold someone as they break down, their tears soaking through my shirt, and remember my own moments of vulnerability. I hold my brother as he weeps for the loss of his fiance, and I remember how he used to smile, and then how I smiled before I lost my best friend. I watch someone determined to die and feel my own soul wishing I could take their pain because I've been on that ledge more than once. People confess to me their darkest sins, and I forgive because I bear my own. People come to me in distress and anguish because they say, “You understand”. I do understand to a degree but no one ever asks how or why, they just accept. I wage war inside my head and attempt to seek shelter from the cross-fire. I begin to open up to the people I trust but I can’t, because I understand the burden of another’s pain. And I am a hypocrite because I will never turn a soul away, not when they need me and, yet, I’m incapable of allowing someone to do the same for me.