on a rainy day. a woman with with dress hold a white umbrella


Another autumn passes, and in the blink of an eye, here comes another winter. The sun’s rays no longer warm me! Damn it, I really dislike these cold, short days. And when it rains? My mood sinks even further. The day, already brief, seems to vanish entirely, and the little light that there was feels almost nonexistent.


I catch myself wandering through these thoughts—ones that some might find trivial and others far too profound. I laugh, for once, I would have associated such musings with what I call “old souls.” And with that, my mind shifts to a different topic: Does it really exist? The soul—would it be independent of the body, or is it merely energy generated by it? Could it all just be electricity flowing through neurons and glucose being converted into ATP
(adenosine triphosphate)? And like a machine, when the energy stops flowing, does it simply power down?


Again, this strikes me as the sort of pondering that belongs to an old soul—a waste of mental effort! I laugh once more. My thoughts leap again, this time to another question: Isn’t my judgment of my own reflections a product of the society I’m part of? A society that places little value on deeper thought or even a simple reflection on enduring truths? What’s “normal” is to have superficial thoughts about the everyday, about something useful in our endless to-do lists, social trends, and frantic pace. What use is it to wonder whether the soul exists or not in the middle of all this? Perhaps only to offer a bit of solace to the soul itself—if it does, in fact, exist.


In the end, perhaps I’m just an old soul after all.