what are souls?

I’m sitting here with a beer in hand, local brew, lightly colored and equally flavored. Everyone around me seems happy. I don’t believe them, and it terrifies me.

Why do people pretend to care? Or do they really care? Why do I pretend to be like them? Why can’t I be like them? Why do I want to be like them?

Every song has the words, about holes in souls, or such. But what is a soul? Is it fraction able or with the characteristic of being able to be made into parts? 

But I know I don’t have a soul, or I don't think I care for mine most of the time. I am not like the rest. There is a part of me that is missing. I’ve been searching for years, and I continue to fail to find it. Bullshit! That’s a lie. I know where it is, I just can’t. I am too afraid. I don’t want to be alone. But I don’t want to be with anyone if I have to feel that pain again.

I looked for something like it in work. Now, I don’t care for it anymore. I looked for it in women, whores, and alcohol, whatever. It was useless. I lost so much money and have nothing to show for it.

I’ve driven people away; I still do, zealously hiding the truth from everyone.

I am not like them. Are they like me? I know they aren’t. I’ve seen them, analyzed the way they interact, the way the live. Always looking through the glass, keeping my hands clean.

No one will ever see this. It’s too bad. Maybe I’d make a lot more sense if they knew.