People come, and people go,
and people always seem to know
that they are empty.
How many people that you've met (and knew well) do you remember? It's always your best friends, or people you hated most passionately, that you clearly remember. But then again, don't you remember the people who didn't really stand out, too? But not all of them. Oh, definitely not. A handful, and fewer as you go back, but them you remember, you know you always will.
I have a guess for this. My guess is because they were more vibrant in some way (even the ones who didn't stand out, because they did, didn't they? You wouldn't remember them, otherwise.), more full of life, more full of... something. My personal philosophy is that these people had souls, and the others didn't.
See, my explanation is, some people who just seem more there have to have a little something extra inside them, otherwise they would be as unremarkable and empty as everyone else. Something that is neither inherently good or bad, just, just more there. I have known a few.
Natalie Hollenbeck: She was my best friend from preschool all the way through 5th grade, when the pecking order established her too high up to safely acknowledge me anymore. She had brown hair, brown eyes, very pretty, born prematurely. Her mom was a kindergarten teacher (mine, in fact). I don't know what happened to her after 5th grade, she was, as I said, in a higher order than my own. But how can I remember her, and some of our adventures together, when I can't remember most of the others I played with just as often, not their names or faces, nothing? She was just more there.
I know a few people I suspect of having a soul. I am not among them. I know better, see. Sometimes I feel like I have one, but it's mostly when I'm in the presence of people who have that little something extra, and when the City is presenting us with entertainment and adventure. I feel more like a mirror, I guess, showing whatever is to be seen, empty (except for the furniture) when there is naught.
I believe I don't have a soul, and probably will probably cease to exist when I die. But then again, I hope to die in a very exciting way, when I feel like I have a soul, because they gotta go somewhere when they die, and there might be a slight mix up, and I'll be able to sneak in for a bit. I hope when I die, I have time enough to give a good word for the people I think, hope have real souls, because the ones I know now are the only reason I didn't stay at the bottom of that well I was in, not so long ago.
And now if you'll excuse me, I feel so filthily emo I have to go flense myself.
I don't know. What I DO know is that Chris Kerr knocked my lunch into a mud puddle in 1975, and the next time I get to Newfoundland, I'm going to beat his ass for it. I don't care if he IS a priest.
TGRR,
Never forgets anyone. Ever.
As far as having a soul goes, there's no point worrying about it. You're going to find out eventually...And if you don't, well, at least God won't eat you.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 25, 2011, 12:22:36 AM
I don't know. What I DO know is that Chris Kerr knocked my lunch into a mud puddle in 1975, and the next time I get to Newfoundland, I'm going to beat his ass for it. I don't care if he IS a priest.
TGRR,
Never forgets anyone. Ever.
:lulz:
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 25, 2011, 12:23:22 AM
As far as having a soul goes, there's no point worrying about it. You're going to find out eventually...And if you don't, well, at least God won't eat you.
True enough.
I remember the important ones.
Interesting take on the "soul," Freeky. I like. Gives me food for thought.