I’m bitten by a bug that constantly itching and can’t help but scratch. Every scratch gives insatiable satisfaction that consuming me for weeks. If it is turning me into a zombie, I won’t mind (George Romero could be prouder). There’s no prescribed cure but to run havoc and infect other mortal denizens.
Its insanity… an addiction. I won’t really mind. My officemates, if I failed to go to work readily suspect me somewhere testing my addiction. I know this because when I returned to work rumors has it that I’m at Bankerohan public market or San Pedro Cathedral taking snapshots of almost anything under the sun. Cris, on his usual in-your-face frankness, cannot contain and questioned me if I don’t even get a speck of shame. I just answered a beaming smile thinking “they don’t just understand, if only they had the itch”.
