I told her, “I feel separated from my soul.”
Then I started jotting down notes in my head, endlessly scratching out the previous thought:
No, wait, you don’t believe in a soul. Do you believe in a soul? What is a soul? No, I don’t believe in any religious connotations of the soul. I believe in something else. What do I believe in?
Strange, maybe, to feel so blank. To let my real desires become dormant and passive, and then question their validity if for a moment, I let them resurface. Do I even know anything about myself? Is there one thing I can say for certain?
I search that room. My eyes dart to every possible corner and edge, looking for…
It is a boring room, it is subdued. It is appropriate for the occasion. There is a moth tonight, that’s weird. It distracts me and I feel as fickle and unfocused as the flutter of it’s wings.
Then, he got up. It was so brusque. I was shocked. I was surprised that I was shocked. I was so completely unprepared for this situation that I sat frozen. Mute. Anxiety swooped into my brain and started pecking, woodpecker intensity, at my skull.
To avoid the inevitable avalanche of emotional distress I decided to become distant. Suddenly it were as if I were living slower than everyone else. There is a lag between my thoughts and their actions. I cannot catch up because they never stop. I am stuck in a strange cloud, a viscous and invisible cloud that envelops my body and leaves me stranded alone. It is powerful and I fear it grows thicker all the time, fogging up my view of reality, making smudges and blurred figures…desiring to cocoon me within it’s fiction.