OLD SOUL: an ode to me

harsh.

I don’t remember the first time someone told me I was an old soul but I was probably about 12 years old and already wearing Ann Taylor Loft (a sensible pencil skirt for my prepubescent hips was my first Loft purchase).

For years I’ve attempted to deduce why people think my soul is an ancient ruin. What gives me away? I’ve thought, how do people see right through me into my musty and withered spirit?

Is it the fact that I threw out my back at the tender age of 13 and had to wear orthopedics in chunky sneakers for the entirety of my middle school experience and couldn’t participate in sports that tipped people off?

Maybe it’s the fact that I do indeed own luxurious cashmere but every piece has been absolutely ravaged by moths.

Or perhaps the telltale sign is that I buy all my costume jewelry at estate sales.

I’m not even entirely sure what an old soul is. After a quick google search, I found an article that suggested that old souls are often people who give good advice. I’m unsure if I qualify as I once advised a dear friend to double text a guy she met once.

The truth about being an old soul is that it usually happens because you were profoundly excluded from the cool teenage things that make you seem youthful and fun. Getting invited to a party? Forget it! Sneaking out of the…