The Velvet Type

“I think perception determines if rarity is beautiful or tragic.”

Being a rare soul isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s a constant battle between loneliness, confusion, and fear. Questioning if you belong or why you can’t simply function like everyone else.

Our inner worlds create our reality. What our minds focus on, ruminate over, all affect our external experience. For those who experience the world at a higher volume, things are simultaneously brighter and darker, louder with more spouts of suffocating silence; it’s a lived experience of wonderous torture.

You learn over time that very few can meet you at your depth. You’ve battled mystical monsters unheard of by the common person, while they’ve only experienced tension within ankle-deep waters. They’ve never drowned, never had uncontrollable rivers pour from their eyes, or had their mind and soul swallowed by the abyss.

If they have, they simply paddle through, wade in the waters, and eventually walk away seemingly intact.

They may have never questioned their entire existence, searched for meaning in the most minuscule signs, let curiosity run loose, questioning all that is and ever will be. They never look beyond reality itself; they can easily exist with what’s right in front of them.

The thing is, scientifically, we’re all made from the stars. Time has molded us from the very fabric of the universe, making us capable of burning all the same.

You can analyze the psychological, search for meaning in the spiritual, or blindly believe in an almighty power. But those are all temporary comforts, brief and short-lived. It’s a stick holding back a dam, a band-aid for a fatal wound.

Yet, we need those things to temporarily quiet the noise that threatens to crack time and space. To cling to the comfort of redefining our existence into simple explanations to avoid the overwhelming complexity of the human experience.

The thing that most people with rare souls fail to realize is how devastatingly beautiful it is to feel with such depth. A mere mortal would simply drown in your waters while you hold your breath and allow yourself to sink.

You find peace and comfort in the darkness, euphoria and thrill in the light. You know there is no knight in shining armor coming to rescue you from the deep-dwelling creatures, so you’ve learned to fight for yourself.

You learn to live within the tides rather than fight against them. You feel the push and pull flow through you as you constantly swim to remain above water. Being rare means you contain unimaginable strength and courage.

You’re sensitive to all, you feel deeply for random strangers, stories of those you’ve never met, and fictional characters that nestle deep within your bones. You cry over hurt animals, lost souls, willing to give every piece of yourself away to help someone else.

In a world of cruel chaos, it’s the rare souls that ground us. That brings an unexplainable energy that few can comprehend.

It’s not easy and never has been. But being able to experience life in such a raw and unfiltered way is nothing short of devastatingly beautiful. Very few understand what it’s like, making you a four-leaf clover, a unicorn, some mythical human creature that history has been known to admire.

You may not be famous, have endless influence, make life-altering laws, or historic initiatives. It’s the small things that make you memorable that leave imprints on everyone you touch.

The cashier at the grocery store who you made laugh, the little kid who you helped up from their fallen bike, the person you stopped to check on at the side of the road. When you’re rare, you teter the edge of existentialism or annihilism, but I think it’s the little moments that amount to a big life.

You never know how your singular interaction with someone could alter their entire day, maybe even their life. Simply because your energy is palpable, detectable, even by the most average of souls.

I think perception determines if rarity is beautiful or tragic. It’s a choice to grasp and wield. You may encounter countless interactions where you’re misunderstood, but what about the few where some do understand?

As a rare person myself, I think the struggle to exist in the mundane can be overwhelming. But there are moments of connection over time that ground me. It helps me live with compassion and empathy for everyone, regardless of their intentions.

It’s a painfully magnificent existence, and sometimes I think we all need that reminder. Regardless of what the day brings, there’s always an opportunity to make someone else’s day better.

Signing off,