Two days ago, my computer was in pretty good shape. I know it was functioning when I shut it down last Saturday. But then again, as the old saying goes, "nothing last forever; everything changes and yadda yadda yadda."
My reaction? There was no twitching of the nerves involve, I didn't panic about it, but I felt nothing for a while. It didn't last long though. The realization that the chances of losing my entire work, both professionally and personally in oblivion has made me apathetic for a few minutes. I finally burst into tears while talking to a friend of mine on the other line.
I was never a drug-user, nor a drug prone kind of person in fact, I have a repugnance for taking medicines even as a child. There I was, lacking in sensitivity, a feeling shared similarly to that of a lithium junkie. But I must say, I didn't get any relief from crying or moaning in front of somebody, I thought it was rather mediocre and insincere. The only time I felt like doing it was when I'm alone in my room or in the toilet where nobody could stand witness to my weakness. Though I cried that afternoon it felt nothing to me - it was just like a phony show where I have to put on a face and pretend I was okay.
Honest to blog, I'm totally ruined by this experience. For five years I live and breathe writing those journal entries and scripts and have dedicated my entire life for the sake of my dreams of becoming a writer and yet, all of it had gone to waste in the blink of an eye. Despite of the hardwork I've rendered and the emotional upheavals I've suffered somebody or someone has decided to get in the way and crash my already wounded heart to stop me from going any further by destroying my hard file.