"You should write those stories up" I say, "make a book". But she doesn't . She isn't convinced that others will want to read what she's written. I tell her they would.
It frustrates me. She has this incredible talent that I think should be channeled, if not for readers then for herself. Instead she carries all these impressions of other people's woes and struggles and hopes and dreams, and she becomes heavy under the weight of so many stories, so many lives. And then she wonders why she is exhausted after her conversations.
But that's her problem - she has a heightened sense of empathy, soaking up the energies of others to saturation point. Drawn to deep waters while too heavily laden to hold her own head above the surface. If she would only write - cast off some of the weight. Find a balance for herself.
I envy her talent though. What she does naturally, I have to learn and cultivate . . . and that's my problem.