a beautiful curse woven in shades of gray
when feeling everything means carrying the weight of both light and darkness.
Empathy is often painted as this beautiful thing. Or is it? We’re taught that it’s what makes us human. The ability to connect, to feel for others, to understand suffering and joy. But no one ever talks about the dark side of empathy. The way it forces you (or me) to see yourself not just in the underdog or the victim but in the people that society has condemned.
When I look at the world, I don’t just see “heroes” or “villains”. I see myself in all of them, no matter who they are or what they’ve done. Even in you. If you’re a millionaire, a murderer, a saint or a tyrant—I’ll put myself in your shoes. And that’s where things get complicated. At least for me.
Firstly, the side that feels familiar is people who are suffering. When I see someone struggling whether it's financially, mentally or physically, it's easy to imagine their pain as my own. Their hardships, their fight for survival, it's something we’re conditioned to empathize with. We’re supposed to feel their despair, their exhaustion. I can close my eyes and immediately step into their world. I can feel the weight of their struggles, their desperation and the hunger for something better. And when you understand them so deeply, it’s almost instinctive to feel sympathy, to want to help.
There are so many instances I feel so much that it hurts me physically. I feel very very uncomfortable to be around people who are suffering. It’s not because I’m unempathetic, it simply because I feel it to the core It messes with my brain. The inability to help or give them any solution will eat me alive I just choose to stay away from them.
Even when I was young, it was like I couldn’t help but absorb the emotions around me. I remember a moment vividly from when I was 9, staying with a relative during a school break. We were sharing a room and one night, she was crying. She was on the phone with her boyfriend and even though she thought I was asleep, I could hear her sobbing. And at that age, I knew—if someone’s crying, it means they’re in pain.
I didn’t fully understand why, but I started crying too. It wasn’t because anything was wrong with me. It was because it hurt to hear someone else in that much pain. Her sobs felt like they were invading my brain and I couldn’t escape it. I didn’t want her to know I was crying but I couldn’t just stop. I just wanted to get out of that room because being near her sadness was so physically uncomfortable for me.
Even after I left and went home, it stayed with me. I would cry at night, the sound of her sobs playing in my head over and over. I told my mom about it and she tried to comfort me but it was like I couldn’t unhear the pain I’d absorbed. That moment stayed with me for days even weeks. It wasn’t just a passing sadness—it messed with my brain. I couldn’t shake the feeling of her pain inside me and it left this strange mark on how I interact with people’s emotions, even now.
There are also moments where my empathy twists in ways that even I find uncomfortable. So many instances where I’ve felt relieved even happy when people who were struggling, especially those hospitalized or in constant pain, passed away. I know that sounds awful but it’s not that I’m glad they’re gone. It’s the idea that they don’t have to suffer anymore. The pain, the suffering, the torture—it’s all gone. I’ve seen people (my relatives) trapped in their own bodies, fighting battles they can’t win and when they pass, it feels like a release. A freedom from the misery that consumed them. It’s not about the loss but about the end of their torment. And in that, I find a strange sense of peace. It’s messed up but it’s true.
But what about the people we’re not supposed to feel for? The ones society deems unworthy of empathy. This is where my perspective gets messy—and controversial.
We all love to hate on billionaires, right? It’s easy to see them as the cause of inequality, people so out of touch with reality that they don’t even see the suffering around them. But I can’t help it I put myself in their shoes too. What does it feel like to have everything, to be at the top of the world, to have more money than you could ever spend? It’s easy to say they’re selfish, greedy or disconnected. But what if I was them?
I imagine the pressure they might feel, the expectations from society, their families, their investors. Maybe they’ve convinced themselves that they’ve earned every dollar, that their success is justified. It’s not that I agree with them but I understand them. I feel their sense of entitlement, the anxiety of staying on top, the constant hunger for more because in this moment, I am them.
And now even more uncomfortable. When I try to step into the shoes of someone who has done something truly awful. Someone who’s committed a terrible crime, a murderer, a tyrant. This is where empathy becomes controversial because who wants to understand someone like that? No one wants to put themselves in the mind of a killer or a dictator. No one should.
But I do. I can’t help it. I feel the need to understand, to become them for a moment. And in that moment, I see myself as someone who might’ve been pushed to the edge, by anger, by fear, by desperation. Maybe they started with the same human instincts as anyone else but something twisted along the way. Maybe they justified their actions, convinced themselves they were right. I can’t say I forgive them but I can understand them. I can imagine how someone might become that way, how anyone could, in the right (or wrong) circumstances. And that is also a helpful tool to “hate” on those kinds of people because me being them for a while means me realizing I wouldn’t have done such an awful thing.
This is why I’m someone who is neutral. I don’t pick sides or generalize. Because I see myself in everyone. So, If I think I would have done the same thing in the circumstances their actions would be justified but when I am in someone who done things I wouldn’t have done or even dreamt of like they have no reason to do what they did then it’s also easy to hate on them. They deserve the hate.
This is where my empathy becomes both a gift and a burden. Because I’m not choosing sides, I’m not making moral judgments. I’m simply feeling. And sometimes, that’s what scares me.
When you empathize with everyone, the line between good and evil starts to blur. You stop seeing the world in black and white and suddenly, everything becomes a shade of gray.
Some might say that if you can understand someone like a murderer or a tyrant, it means you’re excusing them. But that’s not it. Empathy doesn’t mean justification. It means understanding the why behind someone’s actions even if you don’t agree with it. It means seeing the humanity, however warped that still exists in everyone, even the people we’ve written off as monsters. Like I wouldn’t have done such awful thing but why you did it?
And so, this ability to put myself in everyone’s shoes leaves me feeling like a third person observer in my own life. Because while being in others, I’m barely in mine. I’m constantly stepping into the minds of others, trying to see the world from their perspective and it leaves me wondering: who am I in all of this?
When you’re so busy understanding others, it becomes harder to define yourself. You see everyone else’s motivations, their fears, their hopes, but it’s easy to lose track of your own.
Do I agree with the billionaire who hoards wealth? No. Do I agree with the criminal who hurts others? Of course not. But I understand them. I understand how they got there. And maybe that’s the biggest challenge of all—understanding people without losing myself in the process. Because it’s mentally sickening. To feel the struggle of others and also the evil of others. I feel humans. With all their complexity. How different circumstances make different humans.
So where does this leave me? Caught between the roles of observer and participant, I guess. I see the world through everyone else’s eyes but sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever fully see it through my own. Empathy is supposed to be a good thing but when you empathize with everyone, even those we’re told not to, it becomes heavy.
It’s a gift, sure. But it’s also a curse. A paradox. Because to feel everything means to carry everything. To understand everyone means to lose the simplicity of seeing the world as just good or bad. It means stepping into the shoes of both the victim and the villain and realizing that, at the end of the day, they’re both just human. Some are more animal and less human.
So true!!
Empathy is a paradox.
Even i sometimes put myself in someone else’s shoes and think about their circumstances and situations.
That allows us to see the world in a completely different way.
You’re right. The world we see is gray without any shades of black and white.
As always, a super impactful and striking read. ♥️✨
An amazing and very insightful read Janu!! I felt every word of this piece 🥹 it’s hard being empathetic at the end of the day as you don’t want others to walk all over you but you want to understand them too yk?