Plucking out the pins stuck in your heart is easier as it might sound; all you have to do is pour a litre of anesthetics over your poor pumping organ, wash up your throat with a tankard of the strongest ale, and find some cloistered hut where you can remove the pins one by one without waking up any neighbors as you scream. The most painless yet sneakiest way to do that is, as cliché as it might sound, not doubt at all.

I am capable of doing that. I did, and I can if I should.

              I found myself recollecting all the describing words my mind can muster, to pinpoint the exact word I felt on that very day. That most amazing moment when I had to break someone else’s fragile heart (the fragile part might not suit that person’s pumping organ but that is the closest adjective I can think of right now). Yes, I am the lord of impassiveness – where the heartless are ever so leal, where danger is always the other side, and disrespect and broken trusts are all the rewards one can get. Then I unleashed the words; the little letters that would crack open all hells and end someone else’s providential life.. that was the moment, the moment I breathed the fragrance of liberty and relished the taste of relief. And after a minute of pleasure I eventually inhaled another kind of stench, that of reeking conscience and bitter tastes of regret. I knew I had much of it as these words start to dance in my mind, “It is too late, face it or dig your own hole to hell.”

When the bidding was over, the audience certainly craved for more.. more of that onslaught and what-they-seem-to-call-as-savagery (but the usual bread-and-butter for me), I started to suspect my onlookers with their dark eyes, those filthy audience summing up and jumbling their judgmental words like critics and shot them right at me like a prey on the run. But I stood tall amidst their false interpretations because I knew they were all wrong, I knew everything because I’ am the one who made that stuck-up decision. I ignited, and burned all those arrows made of words down to ashes. I wished I could smolder the persons who released those arrows too, but I hesitated and listened to their words instead..

I could perceive their repulsive words; “I heard he mercilessly killed someone!”, “He is a treacherous sly who eat hearts for breakfast” and “He is a fox in a sheep’s wool.” I bathed in their language, with a deceitful grin from ear to ear, because I know I am not what they think I am yet I savor the ripeness of being their lord.. the lord between their tongues and eyes and ears and attention. Then I would ask, “What are they saying?” Then none would answer. I reigned supreme over them, with one crown and no sword – apathy, and apathy alone.

Then I start to doubt again. And utter the words I say when I am too tired and too fed up..

“I miss being a normal human being.” How do I get beyond that? How do I become one again if I am emotionless. I get hungry, hungry for saneness and humanity. I want to dance with the crowd, read stories and share them, and smile and laugh and hope till all the moments I make are insurmountable that I forget I am apathetic the day I was born..