It was a Tuesday when I decided to take a day off from work. It was June 2016, a few days before I turned one year in our small company. I do graphic design for a living, my first real job and it's currently what pays for our dailies. "One year", I said. Most people would consider it a milestone and a part of me actually believes that. But I'm confused to whether I should say "It's already a year and. . ." or "It's only been a year but. . .".
If there's anything I learned in the past, it's that time can be very tricky. It's relative to our experiences, purview and what have we. It's as if I was taken back to my second year high school biology class under Mrs. Sausora when time was slow to a stop.
According to Philip Siekevitz, Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. Brain cells die in just minutes. So when you think or say something stupid you may have already died a million times inside. A walking piece of gradual decay against a bustling city life. If I remembered it right, I wasn't even walking then. I was on my computer scrolling through selfies, videos, hugots and whatnots from people who are (hashtag) #livingthelife.
Then came the news! The news! It was a complete hemorrhage.
As I was contemplating of my year-long hiatus in 'trying to do film', suddenly came a really big problem. I really thought I, on the very least, have lessen the frequent visits of Indian lenders knocking at our doorstep. But the problem isn't with those guys. The problem was just there right beside of us. It's as if we haven't got enough. This time we got sandwiched!
I will be honest with you. It almost feels like I was a naked potato. Harry Potato and the Cauldron of Doom. All of a sudden light began to fade, the cold started to bite and I was transported to an empty parking lot with dementors, about ten or more, encircling me. And the worst part is? I just stood there like a cell without mitochondria.
Tales in Depression Part 2 - Wednesday Addams