I mean, they call it Empathy, and everyone expects that I know what the people around me are feeling. But that's not really how it works. I can't tell if you're happy or sad, but I can tell how you'd react to a hug, or the suggestion of grabbing coffee, or... I guess I shouldn't mention that one, should I? Sorry.
Most people find it a little disconcerting, once they notice. And it can take a few weeks. People are all wrapped up in their own worlds, their own patterns. Even when you know, intellectually, that the world is a deeply diverse and chaotic place, it's hard to really prepare yourself for how disorganized and mismanaged the place can be. One person was raised that you say "hello" to strangers, and so it's not odd at all to them when I say hi. Another person can't handle eye contact, much less talking, and so it's a great comfort to them when I also stare straight down at the ground.
Eventually, people notice that you're a little too perfect. You get them in a way that their best friend doesn't, that even their wife and family don't. The power isn't the most clever thing - it only peers at the short term consequences. You're on your own for navigating a sea of crushes, accusations of being a telepath, and relationships destroyed because merely-human can't compete against divinely crafted perfection.
People, though, are not the extent of empathy. No one is really surprised to find out that I can read pets, too. I can pet-sit basically anything, because I'll get the right nudges to keep them happy and well fed. Sure, maybe I over-treat them a little bit, but I can tell where the line of excess is.
But then, pets aren't the only things with wants and desires, other animals have it too. Everything alive, really. The insect that's terrified of big huge humans, and just wants someplace warm to hide. The competing desires of trees and their aphids.
And if it all bottomed out there, I don't think I would have been nearly so weirded out by this power. But did you know cars have desires, too? I can feel how over-revving the engine stresses things, how it hates being cooped up, mothballed for two weeks while you're on vacation. I can feel the conversations between stoplights, and the way they simply desire to shape traffic in to aesthetically pleasing arrangements. I can't run a red light anymore. I know how much it bothers the stoplights.