I want a fresh start. But my body is made up of cells tainted with history. History of your touch, your kisses, and your hugs. They say that our body replaces itself with new cells every seven years. Love, it’s more than seven years now, I guess heart cells are never included.
I want to live a life, a life full of faith, a life full of Him. I want to live in such a way that when people look at me, they would think that there must be a power greater than this world, a power greater than our greatest worries and anxieties, that there must be a God, and that God must be real. That whatever I do and have will never be possible if it’s not because of Him.
I read people’s souls. It’s a weird thing to say really. It’s like saying I can see ghosts or I can fly, or I can time travel in the future. But mine is to read people’s soul. Not all the people I meet. Just a few actually, those that interests me, since it’s a bit taxing really. It’s a lot different from reading or feeling someone’s energy as most people do. You have to go deeper than their energy when reading people’s soul, that’s why it’s tiring. In the end, you’ll be amazed by what you can discover. There are those who seem meek but are really not. There are those who seem harsh, cold, and arrogant but have a really warm soul. There are those who seem humble but could make your skin crawl whenever you touch their souls. There are those that don’t seem to care, but they really do. There are those who do hurtful things because they’re trying to numb their own pain and hurt inside. There’s a popular person that has a very gentle and down to earth soul, and an ordinary one that has a soul as proud as the sky. Rare are the few people I meet that smiles at your face and tell you things about themselves and mean it as it is. Most hide beneath their facade they built for the world to see, to admire, or maybe to fear.
I met a man in my dream who could read a person’s soul too. He’s by far my favorite one, his soul feels like a warm blanket on a winter night. He smells like an earthen wood from a fire chamber, and his warmth feels like your lost childhood home in maybe some past happy life. I asked him one time what was my soul like. And he said mine is like a block of ice, too cold to touch, and as white as the sky at the first snow fall. White and cold. As beautiful and gentle as a snowflake, but as deadly as the winter.
We cannot choose who we fall in love with. But we can choose who we end up with. I hope you end up with the one you deeply madly love.
And if you can’t, if ever you end up with someone do not love, I hope the heavens will be gracious and merciful enough to change your heart if not the circumstances.