The transport strike has turned the Metro into a parking lot of silence. The fuel crisis is all anyone can talk about. The jeepneys are gone from the roads, and the people who usually rush past my window are standing in long, frustrated lines, waiting for a ride that might never come.
The city is paralyzed. And for once, the world looks exactly how I feel.
There’s a strange comfort in the gridlock. When the whole city stops, I don’t feel so "behind" anymore. We’re all just stuck together, looking at the same hazy horizon, wondering how we’re going to afford the next mile. Being unemployed and depressed is a permanent transport strike—you have the engine, but you don't have the fuel to move.
I almost let the blog go dark tonight. The "Fuel Crisis" felt too heavy, a metaphor for my own burnout. But then I saw a post online of people offering free rides to strangers in their private cars. Small acts of kindness in the middle of a massive mess.
It made me realize that even when the system stops moving, we don’t have to. We can still reach out. This post is my "free ride" for anyone else stuck in the gridlock today.
We might be out of fuel, and the road might be blocked, but at least we can sit in the silence together. Tomorrow, maybe we’ll find a way to walk.
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