I always hear this from people. Those types of people. The ones who look at your palms, or eyes or horoscopes and think they can know you inside and out with just that glance. The people that were so great with stuff like “friendship is important to you” but didn’t pick up that the wiring in my brain doesn’t match the stuff in my pants.
I’ve never heard anyone called a “new soul”. That seems to make it rather redundant that mine is old. “Yes, I’ve heard that before. In fact, everybody has. We are all old souls. Thank you for your time.”
Maybe it would be exciting if we had souls and they possessed ages entirely removed from our true time stamp. We’d have middle-aged souls buying soul-Porches and banging soul-secretaries, and geriatric souls complaining that they remember when this was all soul-fields.
Wait… a field of souls? That’s sounds macabre. Forget about it; things are better this way.
