A heart of stone. That is what you call people who feel nothing. People who are indifferent... or cruel. Have you ever thought, even once, if you have phrased it the right way? Have you never wondered how you are so sure that stones have no feelings? I suppose I cannot blame you. Humans are known to be blind to some things that lie in plain sight. What is it that they say? One sees only what one wants to see. Perhaps this is one of those things too, but do not think like that any longer; I am here to tell you now: I am a stone, and this is my story.

It all began with my birth. I am—like you—a child of the Earth, and from the fiery lava of volcanoes, I was born. It is ironic, is it not, that the fire that created me describes so many of your feelings, yet I am said to be unfeeling? For years I waited alone, simmering, until finally, I became what your people call a rock. I was coloured like a heavy storm clouds—dark as the deepest depths of the world. Naïve as a new-born, I believed the world was mine to revel in. I was wrong. It never was, and it never will be mine.

For years, I lay waiting, boiling, and cooling, still within the folds of the Earth. Your people were too scared to come find me; my mother protected me yet. She could have risen in all her wrath any time. You did not want to face a power which had once destroyed entire civilizations. Pompeii still haunted your selfish hearts. Still, I believed mine would be a rosy path. Alas! My world is just as cruel as yours. Mother protected me from a foreign people, but not from my own. The very force which had created me began weathering me away. The wind blew through my cracks and crevices. He took great pride and joy in his strength, stealing small parts of me as he carried them across the whole wide world. I had heard that it would only be a small phase in my otherwise long life, and that someday, I would become so beautiful that all of your kind would stop to admire me. For that reason alone, I persevered.

Even in the midst of struggle, I tried to be the optimist. When plants grew from within me, I was grateful to give life to another—life and strength, even if it was at the cost of my own. When the river flowed by, her gentle arms reaching out to make me shimmer and glow beneath the glorious sun, I thanked her. In the sun's glory I basked, enjoying the warmth of his light while it still lasted. This is the way we are, dear humans, the fellow living beings and I. The flowers and animals, all alike. We are selfless. We live and let live. The green gives us as much joy as it does to you, perhaps more, and so, we let ourselves wither away until there is no trace of our existence, giving way to the strong roots that come forth from the little seedling.

With the coming of winter, however, the sun cowered behind the clouds. My dear friends went into a deep sleep to avoid the chill. You, I recollect, call it 'hibernation'. My companion, the lady river, changed form. She glinted like a thousand diamonds—a sight that I will never forget—but she became treacherous. She no longer flowed. Cold-hearted, she grated against me and each time, it was she who won the battle, eating away at me. For every moment of what felt like an eternity, I fought until I was so weary of it, I could strive no longer. I found myself once more in my mother's embrace. I became a part of her. Unseen, yet present.

Those millennia were one of the most beautiful during my lifetime. I suppose you can say that I travelled a lot. Where I had once struggled against the winds, I now went with him of my own accord. He took me to various lands, far and beyond my home. I still missed the place whence I came from, but I learnt to accept that one cannot have everything. One must make do with all that has been gifted to us. One day, dear humans, I know that you will realize this too. I can only hope, for your sake and mine, that it is not too late for us when you do.

I saw hills; I saw rivers. I saw trees; I saw deserts. I saw the ice; I saw the fires, and then I settled once more. I found a new home. It was so different from my past, but it was the present. The beautiful present. Many others joined me soon—friends from far-off lands whom the winds had brought to me. Some were kind, but the others were not. None too soon, the struggle began again. You say I am hard. So hard that I cannot be broken by your bare hands, yet you hardly seem to realize that it is these battles that have hardened me. You praise a battle-hardened warrior. Am I not one of them too?

Many more millennia went by as I lay there, fighting, losing, being pushed around—suppressed and compressed until I started changing. It was painful. Every grain of me, every fiber of my being changed, but I don't expect you to understand it. You humans fight for love and greed. Do you know what I fought for? I fought for you. I had so much to give you all. I should have known it would never have been enough. Nothing is.

Those days of battle, I'd think of how you would make stunning sculptures of me. Beautiful pathways that would make it a pleasure for you to walk by. Wonderful monuments that will last for ages. Mesmerizing jewelry that would adorn you. I was not all wrong. Soon, you came for me with your weapons and tools; I braced myself. Why, you ask? Don't. You know what happens next. You used one of those contraptions that you employ without remorse. The minute you left that 'dynamite', I knew what would happen, but I waited. I let myself be blasted to smithereens so I could help you, and I did my part. For all that struggle, all I asked for was some appreciation, but it never came.

I stand now as a symbol of love and beauty. They call me a wonder. Not of nature, but of man. Your eyes worship the sculptors and the image, but it is never me, is it? Too few of you revere my sacrifice; those who do are too helpless to try and save me. You have taken all that I could ever give—and more—but now, you are killing me. I'm withering. Decaying. Dying. All because of your negligence and greed. I cry out in pain and agony, but you are too far gone to hear or see. I am crumbling now. I can bear it no longer. My end has come, but unlike you, I will be reborn once more into the same life. Even then I will say nothing.

Why should I?

After all, I have a heart of stone.

A/N: Here it is, the improved version. Even if it was originally was written for #JustWriteBits, this is something that really bothered me. A little something for all of us to think about. Isn't it high time for us to actually start helping and caring for our surroundings? We take even rocks for granted. We rarely admire their beauty and texture, but what we are doing-the pollution and reckless construction-it is hurting them too. Not only the plants and animals, but even rocks! Is that what we have become as humans, to hurt even such inanimate objects?