Rhenium

Rhenium has grown numb.

It has been ages that he has not been truly moved, and he cannot even remember the last time he caught himself seething.

He remembers the feeling very clearly though. He remembers the rage welling up in his throat and the anger bubbling in his chest. He remembers how it feels to be alive, to shout through deafening silence as the air leaves his lungs and the blood pumps in his veins.

But Rhenium does that no more.

Or perhaps he has been shouting louder and louder ever since the fire in him has died out. He is not quite sure.

Why would he shout? To try and rouse himself up maybe.
But then again, maybe not. Rhenium is not even really convinced he actually even shouts anymore.

He has grown numb.

Grown. Aye, that is the word.  

Once he would have gladly taken up arms on the most minor of trifles, nowadays he cannot even bring himself to care about serious matters. He has realized there were more important things to do than prove himself to be the smartest one, but in truth, there is little else that catches his interest.

Not that he has forsaken his old beliefs, mind you. Merely that he has adopted a more pragmatic, less passionate standpoints on things.

In a sense, Rhenium has merely become hardened.

Hardened.

There is a nice ring to the word. He likes it.

But to be honest, he believes 'dead' is much more fitting.

Or perhaps not 'dead'. It sounds awfully definitive, even for a walking statue such as himself.

'Jaded', mayhaps?

No, that does not fit either.

Numb?

Ugh, he has already said that. And besides, as true as it may be, that does not reflect the whole reality either.

The word Rhenium is looking for is 'lost'.