In need of some critique?
There is a theory that a man’s soul weighs 21 grams. I wonder if those 21 grams decide whether a person becomes a mass-murderer in his later life, or a housewife, kindly waiting for her husband to get back home, while he’s wasting his bits of soul with his secretary, ‘having to stay at work late’ as he prefers to call it. Or a child that is raped by a paedophile at the age of six. A mother, a drug addict, a priest…it has to be the soul that determines which path we will take in our life, after all.
As I was walking past cemetery this morning, I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened with those people and the amount of phosphorus hanging above them, re-creating pollution. Were they loved? Are there people who come to visit them from time to time, exchange greetings and maybe a couple of tears? Bring white chrysanthemums? - They smell of death and soil covering toes of those dead bodies keeps them warm in winter and protects from any intruders interrupting their peaceful, meaningless being. But abandoned graves remind me that memory is not eternal and as the time flows by, those people are forgotten, with their bones and skulls and the parts they’ve played in someone’s life. The only thing I know is that no-one has ever left life alive.
The doctor in his theory came up with the conclusion that dogs don’t have souls, as their mass has not changed after death, which makes us question love. If our soul weighs 21 grams and love, hate and fear are all a part of it, how can a dog be seen as a man’s best friend? How can anyone be seen as a friend if all those feelings are forced into a tiny cage and locked inside and released only when we lay on the cold, metal table in morgue or bleeding out in the OR.
My step-mother says that people are wasting their souls on meaningless things nowadays. She considers having sex with multiple people as one of them. ‘If sex is a way of reproducing, it also reproduces soul’ I thought. It contemplates to global warming, teenage pregnancy, suicide rates and 21 grams, which are the evidence that we are still Homo sapiens.
There is no point in questioning death and such abstract matter like soul; because people only think about it on anniversaries of 9/11 or the Chernobyl disaster. For the rest of the time they’re people building their lives on each other’s backs, foot-licking, miserable worms trying to move up their career ladder, where soul doesn’t take a part. Where there’s no place for it.
Fat people getting anorexia nervosa; people killing each other on the streets for own enjoyment; innocent people facing death penalties; adverts of cows telling us to each chicken and chicken telling us to eat cows. All that fits into bloody 21 grams that seem to not play any matter in our, as they call, modern lives. Religious people find salvation in God, atheists in science, some people just don’t believe in anything at all, which according to our standards is normal as we are given the freedom of speech. What we are not given, is a couple grams more that would make us better.
And for every girl that feels fat when stepping on scales, remember: those 21 grams are what makes you human. It's a little bit more than someone else might be.