I have always been fascinated by the idea of the soul. This wild concept of having something inside you that makes you, you… Without it, you’re just a meat sack with chemicals rushing inside. Which is why I’ve always wanted to see one – the one thing that makes us tick.

My grandpa used to drink a lot. When I was 8, I asked him why he drank so much, and he said it made his soul content. And then I asked him if I could see his soul. He said he’d have to die for that, and I asked if I could kill him. Grandpa laughed it off, but I think it unsettled him. He never spoke to me after that, not even on his deathbed. I even watched him burn on the pyre intently after, hoping to see that content soul…but no, nothing came out. I guess my dad was right…alcohol is bad for you, maybe that’s why grandpa’s soul didn’t out.

At 12, my parents got me a little dog. I named him Toby. He was such a happy little creature…always excited, always chasing something. Such a playful little thing. No matter what, he was always running around, and jumping, making these happy noises. I asked my mom why dogs were like that. She told me dogs had the purest form of souls. So, the next day, I skinned Toby. I dug out his guts, looking for it. But he was empty inside. Maybe mom was wrong. Maybe animals don’t have souls like us.

I guess that was wrong of me because my parents put me in a special school. They said there was something very wrong with me…that I couldn’t really understand. The other kids, there, were…weird. My roommate was an older kid who’d slap himself often, mumbled stuff, stared into the ceiling, and talked to himself. When asked, he’d say he was talking to God, and that would help him get his soul into heaven. I cut him open to look at his soul…but he was empty inside, too, just like Toby. Maybe his Gods really took it…I couldn’t tell.

They shifted me to an even weirder place, then. Here, they keep me tied with chains, let me out in the sun very little, and there’s always someone watching me. I don’t know how long I’ve been here…I’ve lost the count of days, months, or has it been years? My mom came to visit me some days ago, I think. I don’t recall much but I asked to be let out. She said she even though it saddened her, I’d have to stay here. I asked her why…but she told me it was because I have no soul!

So, you see, doctor? I had to cut myself to see it for myself! I don’t believe her…it’s preposterous. And when I get out of these chains, I’m really going to see it for myself.