There was a time that I felt I was supposed to be the filler. And in being the soul of someone else’s existence, I lost my own. And it is amazing how harsh and destructive man can be to his own soul. How much he can beat it up until it is molded into what society deems fit. But once it is beaten and molded into what’s acceptable to the world, it is lost. Dead. And surely yet another soul will be sought, and the old one discarded.
There's part of the story of Narcissus that I don’t fully get. How can someone be punished when the world grabs at him and wants to claim him without knowing him? What if he is looking for someone who can see past their own needs and wants and desires and connect with something deeper in Narcissus? And as he looked into the pool, what did he see? Did he simply see his reflection? Or did he see his inner self? The inner self that no one else was able to see because they were so wrapped up in the image.
No, I am not beautiful like Narcissus. In fact, my beauty, if I were to claim it, comes from my entire self. I have met many men in my life and it appears it is my soul that is the most attractive part of me. My personality. My inner self.