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  • B. Nintzel

What does my soul look like?

What does my soul look like?

I think my soul is a tiny, foam dinosaur that when immersed in water, expands into a medium sized, foam dinosaur. Hopefully green or blue, because that would be rad, but also, because I feel my soul is mainly those two colors, or some iteration in between them. They’re not even my favorite color (lavender) but maybe that’s something I need to look into embracing more.

What I’m trying to say is, I think my soul shrinks and expands with every moment of validation or condemnation I receive. I don’t necessarily believe I need others’ opinions of me to be held so tightly within my stream of consciousness (or unconsciousness), but I do think I thrive on them or I shrivel at the lack of.

Sometimes, I feel my soul is the soul of a cat. Only allowing myself attention when I want to receive it, and even then, only showing the parts of me I want others to like. I’ll slink away when I’m finished and I’ll let the not-so-great parts of me out in private, (like farts, let’s be real) where I can reflect upon the attention I’ve just received, and pour the pockets full of validation into a jar that is never full.

(Apparently, this soul-cat inside of me has opposable thumbs.)

Or, sometimes, I feel like I have the soul of a Grandma. Not an “old soul”, mind you, no, but a soul of a human who had to grow up too fast. An acceleration of the wrong parts of me, that, due to the inertia of the force so inexplicably pressed upon me, now, can’t slow down.

Sometimes, I feel like my soul is empty. Like, it packed it’s bags and decided to jump ship. This usually coincides with when my boobs also pack a bag and take a vacay, and always coincides with the spiraling black hole of depression.

Lately, my soul has felt lighter and brighter. A cleaner shade of a light teal color, if you will. I am feeling more vibrant and vibratety; Full of verve and vigor. (I think I just really wanted to use a lot of “v” words, there.)

But seriously.

I wish my soul could feel like this always, or at least, feel this climb to a better version of me, always.

I’m learning that the happy and joyous states we are always in a constant state of chase towards, aren’t the be all/end all. While these are the most revered states (and rightly so!), we cannot shy away from feeling the feels of the negative states, too. These are, I think, the most important. For, without pain, and often, the suffering that follows it, how can we truly and completely feel the joy and bliss and happiness that we are constantly craving?

My soul creates.

My soul tells stories.

My soul has cracks in it that I am filling with as much light as possible, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t shadows there, too. And I, for one, can no longer cover them up.



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