Under the microscope, my cell looks just like anyone else’s. It has nothing to distinguish it, it has no personality, no problems either. It is my minimal expression. Is it still me, even though it is no longer inside me? When I feel like a depressive episode is about to start, like today, I prick my finger and prepare a sample. I observe my cell carefully for some time and, when I feel ready, I proceed to inject it with the most lethal virus available in the freezer. It’s like witnessing my own death, at a tiny scale. Feeling lighter, I get up, clean my station, close the day’s work and walk unburdened into tomorrow.
Translated to English by the author