Every time Facebook suggested an old memory of my emotional status, I was always taken aback. How many years has it been – five, six, seven? But it's never the time that surprised me.

I am always, always surprised by the emotions I used to have. And the language that I used seems to have endured agony. Love, hate, pain, disappointments – all of them were real. You have seen perfidy, you've seen how inevitably you were involved in dramas that you could write a book about. Where your positions were depended on what others did. 

So you learnt how to deal with things. Smile, pay little attention to details, never bother to care too much about people, and courtesy, courtesy, courtesy. You knew the rules, so you followed them - play inside the edge of the comfort zone.

I don't feel anything anymore.
I felt like a programmed machine. I no longer possess that kind of deep passion with people. Maybe I'm scared of them.

But I don't feel it anymore.
I don't feel the need to spend more time with people. Or do things for people whom I care.
And perhaps I am incapable of feeling or caring.


Time doesn't heal scars. 
Scars mature over time.