I have a soul that’s not for everyone¬†

I have a soul that’s not for everyone¬†

There is so much I could say right now about all this tangled mess of feelings stuck inside me, but I can’t. The impulses through the neurons in my head flow so fast, I can’t even catch the end of one thought without having millions of others way more complicated pop up.

I wish I could write like Sumire in Murakami’s Sputnik sweetheart. That would tremendously relief the heavy weight of unfinished thoughts. Word after word, sentence after sentence, each one would release me from the trap of melancholy. It is even more difficult to concentrate on writing when you are in a new city, staying in a low light hotel room  for the night and from your slightly opened window you can hear pieces of stories of people walking down the street. Those half stories mix with your story and than there you are drifting away for minutes…I have to stop, to think for a while what was my last thought before I got lost. I’m here again and my sadness is still here. I don’t even know if I can name it sadness or not. But it definitely is sitting somewhere deep down my soul because it’s a long time I have been feeling this way. It is a strange feeling of not belonging combined with some drops of not being understood. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Im not sure but I know a lot of emotions are involved and many unsaid truths hide behind this feeling. But what makes it more difficult it’s me! My daring ego has the courage to stand up and face me so honestly about all this. She screams and yells that my emotional intelligence is not intelligent at all and it’s breaking me into pieces because I need to feel, have to feel everything to the fullest. And the only feeling I have right now is this (maybe) sadness. My ego is smart, she even suggested me to act like I don’t care that my inner world is so different. She even said that if my soul is not like the rest, that it is something special and I should cherish it because it is not for everyone. Only certain ones will understand. But who trusts the sick ego of someone who hasn’t felt other emotions than sadness for a long while?

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