Have you ever felt the underwhelming feeling of being a slave your your own mind? I have. It gnaws at you from within with claws that only you can see. I feel it too often. Don’t think I am totally alienating the beauty of the mind. How could I? When mind is made with the framework of the cosmos that predominates the endless void. My opinion is but a matter of ridicule . Never have I ever chosen my heart over my mind. According to my faith, it is the balance of mind and heart that makes a perfect human being but in my case the scales have always been in favour of my mind. I have tried to spontaneous, taking risky decisions, rebelling but at the end of it all my mind stops me as I somehow subconsciously know that i am too tired to face the consequences. I think a lot of us do have the same thing going on until something happened to me, I fell in love with the person. A person that changed me for the better or the worse. Yes I do feel that I did a mistake by falling for him but I am not regretting it at all. It all started when I understood that good old empathy never stood a chance in front of reason. It was a sensitive subjects my mind always gave an answer terrifying enough for me to stop thinking. Whether it was a silly fling with a guy or group fight I always ended with logic and flowers. Life was good and I got by well. One thing about my mind is that it worked aesthetically. I found beauty in everything. The sorrow, the happiness, the agony, the glee, everything was beautiful and I was a romantic for such emotions because maybe deep down i wanted a few. As i grew up people started naming people like me. Apathetic. Was it? I don’t exactly dislike it. My parents passed away when I was 24. It was a sad accident. We had a fight just before it happened. Why did i survive? I was lucky that they protected me. I was lucky I got a job soon enough. It was a miracle as the girl supposed to get the job moved away to Canada.

Life for me took an unexpected turn when I met him. Tall, dark and handsome, that man was attractive in every aspect towering over me with his broad shoulders. He was my superior at work. Let’s call him X. He was an incredible human being with great sense of humour to him. He helped me out a lot because I was new. Unfortunately he had a girlfriend. His girlfriend lived with him. So for me to ask him out was out of question. I could be in love with anyone but courting a person already in a relationship was definitely irrational. Thus I chose to wait. Wait till they got done with each other. His girlfriend was a ball of sunshine optimist whose smile reached both her ears. A genuine person. Thus something different evoked in me. It was jealousy. It was a foreign feeling. I looked at her, she was a pretty, petite woman with a heartwarming smile. I wished I had it too. I remained impassive to it. The perks of being apathetic is that you can even mask the feelings you actually have. I masked it well, until the day finally came. Don’t get me wrong. I do not like the fact that she broke up with him. Who breaks up with such a perfect person?

The man was devastated and refused to talk to anyone unless absolutely necessary. I respected that. Soon, I thought to myself but the interesting thing about grief is that it varies from one person to another. Someone needs three days some need months, some years and some need no time at all.

Then again, no matter how much time one needs , they do move on, not because their agony has subsided but time has waned it to the point it becomes a dull throb of their heartbeat , barely there but always present. At least that’s what I deduced from people in grief.

Months passed and even my feelings started waning but he did not revert back to his former self. Why wouldn’t he? I have been extremely patient. He just couldn’t. Months turned into years, and his hair turned borderline grey yet there was no sign of moving on from that stupid grief. I chose to confess. The only emotions that had ever evoked in me was by him. So I made up my mind. I dolled up and went straight ahead. It was late in the night and I planned to ask him out for dinner. He was slumped over his desk. He was sleeping, the poor thing! My life changed when I went and tried to wake him up. He wasn’t sleeping, he was not breathing. My eyes widened as I became frantic for the first time in my life. I called for help in a shrill voice, the very voice that I had loathed for years. When help reached, I was frozen . Later that night, I stayed in the bathtub. Soon, the news came in. He died of overdose. His grief took over my whole being. He transferred the grief to me, this time it was him. All those times I ended meaningless things, all those jilted lovers, groups, the girl in Canada that ended in the ocean as ashes, hidden under the smell of flowers. Maybe even my actions of ending their lives too was quite meaningless but I was tired of not feeling anything. I wanted to feel guilt, remorse, disgust but I didn’t. I was the one who tampered with the breaks of my parents’ car because they tried to seek help for me. My logic was justice and flowers were compensation. I let my mind decide because I could never be so impudent to not go by universe’s wishes yet I did my best. Their lives were meaningless to begin with. They deserved it. It wasn’t easy, luring them into a parking lot in the middle of the night, doing the thing and sending their ashes to the ocean. Burning them alive was satisfying, making them disappear forever was even better. Enough chit-chat. I think my mind is asking for it again. This grief tells me his ex took me away from him. I’d never let this happen to him. Someone had to pay the price. It was her. I sent her a message ,

“I have evidence who killed your ex. I know, you have been crying from the moment you heard. If you want to know, come to XX parking lot, Z Street.”

“Who is this?”

“Why don’t you find out? He trusted me.”

“Why in the night?”

“I am their next target. I am in hiding. Not in a good shape. Before something happens to me, come here alone.”

“Why not the police?”

“They are also involved”

She waited a bit.

“Im on my way.”

Of course you are. I start the engine myself. See you all later. My apathy is back, so are my merciful Roses.