Anesthesia.

Long time ago, I had an irrational impulsive heart, and I hated it.
I thought it was a fault in my character, something I should work on and try to fix, as if I was a broken lamp. I tried to prevent myself from feeling things so intensly, but I couldn't, I know I had to accept this problem in order to change it. at first I tried, and I failed, every bit of emotion emitted from me was forced to stay inside the frame of my body, my skin was a physical barried that kept these feelings swarming withing me.

I practiced it.

At first it was not easy, I turned into a timed bomb. A moving living bomb.

sometimes I felt the volcano searing its inside me. 

and most of the time I couldn't handle it.

My swallowed tears were the only thing I used to put out these fires, it took a long time, but eventually, it worked.  

I did it. or maybe overdid it.

because now I don't feel a thing, I didn't know this will be the side affect.

this emptiness is the only one thing that I hate more than the scorching fires.

all my feelings are superficial now.

I laugh and I smile and genuinley feel concenrened, but other than that? nothing.

I lost my sympathy. I am creul now.

I don't grieve, and I don't remeber the last time I cried.

Now I know why we ache, why we feel the prick of a needle and the stab of a knife, otherwise, how would we know?

My friends have noticed it. they ask me if everything is okay, I say yes, but I can't really tell.

The vacancy inside my chest is threatning to swallow me as whole, it will take my humanity away.