ci-tech and I

I am writing this because I was recently reminded by my roommate that writing is inherently self-serving.

I recently resigned from my job. I have waited two years to legally get myself out of a ryhtmic pattern of going to the office, doing the same things most of the time. I maintained an incessant longing for my last day in the office when i would imagine the air in Eastwood City to smell a personal scent of relief, far from the convoluted revolution of fragrances in the Perfume Section of Shangri-la Mall. Unfortunately, when i stepped out of the office for the last time in April 23, Eastwood City didn't smell any different.

I felt a sense of numbness that I considered probing into my intentions. Perhaps, the swell of emotion that stemmed from my dear grandfather's unexpected passing preceded what should have been a euphoric day of freedom from a routinary quality assurance work. I still position my nose to unimaginable angles in an attempt to inhale that distinct air up to this day.

I will be leaving for Mindanao this coming Friday. The air that will greet me there would entirely smell different, definitely. And i hope I would not be positioning my nose to unimaginable angles then; lest I fail in positioning my heart to discern all the blessings I received during my two years of stay in ci-tech.

I will begin this last paragraph with another 'I'. I am writing this because I was reminded by my roommate that writing is, afterall, inherently self-serving.