>>59845
I don't feel "love" as other people do. My childhood was objectively fine by most any measure, but I was never a happy person, even as a child. There is a vast, unbridgeable gulf between me and all others, which I realized existed when I was barely in kindergarten. This manifested in various delusions throughout childhood, believing variously that I must be a robot, or an alien, or some monster that merely looks human. The thread of commonality, of course, is that I DON'T BELONG HERE. Nearly every year since about the time when I was eleven, I've been convinced that I'll commit suicide before the end of it. Somehow, it just never happens. I don't talk to anyone about this; why should I? They are as dogs to me: equally different, equally incapable of understanding.
I may not feel love, but I do feel hate; I may not feel pleasure (beyond feeling moments of base satisfaction) but I feel ample pain; I may not feel happy, but I do feel fear. The net weight of my life's experience, positive or negative as on a graph, is so far below the center as to be all the way in the center of the world, where I sit alone.
Really, I don't believe in souls, beyond a narrative device; but, somehow, it seems to fit. I recently found out from my mother that, shortly after being born, I "died" three times, and was revived each time. Probably, they should not have done so. Because the human part of me died anyway. Now, I may have a body and mind, but it's all empty and soulless. Only pain and rage inside.