You’ve got an errant word in your fifth sentence: “and seeing that it they are not.”
I was with you until the last paragraph. I know I’m not special or different, and the idea of a soul is painfully silly. The only consolation I receive in my writing is the occasional moments of enjoyment I can help someone else experience. The problem still remains that I am not very good. Which by definition makes me insane for continuing to write expecting to eventually produce something worth reading.
Big fan of passion though, and it oozes a sticky wet mess in this piece that will take at least three sheets of Bounty to clean up.
John Perkins