Jeremy Ilang-Ilang, Informal Writing #1

Jeremy Ilang-Ilang, Informal Writing #1

Day by day, I continuously made thoughts of whether or not I, myself, physically existed in this society. I felt as if I were an apparition, or a completely blank figure that nobody would ever see or detect. “…I know I know, but as you can see, the world isn’t peaceful to us anymore this time around, and it’s time to start facing the reality” said my best friend, Sara. “Let us hope God has a plan for us, and as long as we keep on praying, things can start to get better soon…” she added. My co-worker from across seemed to be doing the same, consistent routine of finishing up paperwork and getting the job done so he can finally pick up his paycheck, as he was providing and making a living for his family. But after years, seldom did I ever see joy nor a smile from his face, in which I had mostly seen a face of seriousness and grins from the frustration of his position. Sitting in my desk, I sat and wondered if I was looking at a completely different individual, or a reflection of myself. I finally get home from work the night before the weekend started, and I started looking for a way to relax and alleviate the pain and sorrow that raged in me. I figured that maybe a cup of lukewarm tea, or maybe even a warm shower would be the best thing to do. I took a sip of this rich, green tea, then thereafter, turned the knob to generate the heat. Steam filled the whole bathroom, the mirror became fogged up, and I started pondering about my previous conversation with Sara as I showered. “You weren’t the only one that was inflicted this severely, and yours was probably not even as worse as you think it is…” I recalled from her. More thoughts kept coming by, and quickly I became worried for her, so I decided to pay her a visit. I woke up the next morning, but yet it seemed like it was going to be a gloomy day in Times Square. I came upon a magazine post all filled with its snobby, mainstream fashion industry which mostly made people feel ugly for their image, leading to depression. As I stared, an apparition of somebody started appearing in front of those magazines, who looked depressed and among those people opposed to the mainstream. I finally came upon Sara’s door, knocking, but nobody was there and the door was open. I sat down crying, sobbing, about what could have happened to her, so I began talking to myself and apologized for whatever I said. Across from me, an apparition of her began appearing, but never moved and on the table in front, I found a note showing her date of death and a message, stating “Be lucky to still be living”.