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Yesterday I mentioned my soul.  Sarah reminded me that I don't believe I have one.

The word 'soul' doesn't have any clarity for me. It just seems that our soul is our mind. What we comprehend ourselves to be in life.  

Maybe I have zero souls. Or several.  Several constantly fighting to claim who I really am.

Most afternoons at work, I'll reminisce about going home.  One recurring thought is a simple one- I get home, make myself a drink, sit at the dinner table and read. Yet almost every day, I get home, make myself a drink and cannot bring myself to take any further steps towards my goal.  A sense of pure exhaustion comes over me.  I feel like I could just melt down and become part of the scenery. I don't know why this is.  It's like I'm too lazy to relax.  That sentence shouldn't be allowed to exist.