An essay left undone, the same forty-three songs on repeat, cookies burning in the聽kitchen聽because聽not聽a聽single one聽of聽us聽feels聽the聽need聽to聽get聽up.聽What聽started聽as聽a聽pandemic聽has聽become聽a聽prison.
When the lockdown started in March of 2020 following the upsurge in Covid-19 cases in聽the United States, the feelings I had surrounding the virus were mainly positive. I recall laughing聽with my friends during class and saying, "Someone take one for the team [referring to getting the聽virus] so we can stay at home." In hindsight, our ranting and raving about how horrible going to聽school was might have been a manifestation of some sort. Be careful what you wish for, I聽suppose. Even after we discovered that the break from school would be longer than two weeks,聽we were reasonably excited. I didn't realize the severity of the situation until long after it had聽spiraled聽out聽of control.
Initially, the workload from school, my basketball team, and my other extracurricular聽activities and clubs decreased significantly. The assignments I was stressed over before the聽lockdown were no longer critical, and I felt liberated. My family was forced to get along, or at聽least pretend to, as our country launched into emergency procedures. My friends and I planned聽sleepovers and hangouts as the days lapsed into weeks, happy for the change in our monotonous聽routines.
It's the fact that we were so agonizingly in love with our newfound freedom that reality聽became (always was?) an afterthought. My mom always says, "If it seems like it's too good to be聽true, something's wrong." Unfortunately, we didn't realize that until it was too late. My dad's聽cousin, a doctor in New York, was diagnosed with Covid sometime near the beginning of April.聽Our excitement came to a screeching halt. He was hospitalized, ironically, in the same hospital聽he worked at. He passed away on April 16th, and as my family became increasingly paranoid,聽the聽truth聽started to聽sink聽in.聽The聽pandemic聽wasn't聽a聽blessing聽in聽disguise.聽It聽was聽a聽disaster.
I used to finish all my work in the middle of the week, and while procrastination wasn't聽foreign to me,聽it wasn't routine either. A year later, I'm doing all my assignments a few hours聽before聽they're聽due,聽including聽the聽bulk聽of聽this essay.聽Earlier聽today,聽I聽was聽sitting聽in聽math聽class,聽and聽my math teacher asked if we needed any clarification about the topics we'd reviewed in class. I聽didn't know how to tell him that I needed him to teach everything from the past four months聽again because I understood absolutely nothing. I'm constantly stressed and frustrated, but I can't聽bring myself to find the motivation to do better. Even in the classes I'm doing okay in, my work聽ethic聽has become聽significantly worse.
I can't remember what I've turned in and what I haven't. I have no idea what's due and聽when. I don't even know what the date is, most of the time. Standardized testing is coming up,聽and regardless of how many times I'm told that it doesn't determine my intelligence, I know that聽the聽number of points I drop聽will come聽up at the聽dinner聽table.
Most of my mom's family in India has contracted the virus in the past few days or is in聽danger of contracting it due to the distressing situation of the country. Every time I complain, I聽feel guilt eating at me, knowing I'm fortunate enough to be in a safe and financially stable聽household.聽I聽know聽I聽need聽to聽do聽better,聽and聽I聽have聽countless聽to-do聽lists聽and Pinterest聽boards聽meant聽to motivate me and point out my blessings, but all they do is serve as a reminder that life will never聽be聽the聽same聽again.
I find myself lashing out at the wrong people and bottling up all my emotions because I聽have no idea what else to do with them. I noticed this element of isolation in the Wuhan diaries,聽as well. "But even if you keep pushing forward, there are still going to be times when you can no聽longer聽hold聽in聽that聽oppressive聽feeling聽inside聽you,"聽the聽author of聽the聽Wuhan聽Diaries聽writes.聽It's聽so聽disorienting to feel distant and disconnected from everyone around me and reality itself. I often聽become irritated over small things, such as my sister spilling soda on the floor or discussions in聽class leaning towards a sensitive topic. I've noticed an increasing divide between my parents, and聽while I definitely don't enjoy it, I can understand it. It's suffocating to stay with and talk to the聽same few people for months. I wrote a poem about this a few weeks ago in my journal, so here it聽is-
the air is heavy and thick with humidity, or maybe that is just from my own bones trying to聽suffocate me. i am spilling out of my ribcage and i cannot be contained in this disaster of a home聽anymore. i feel claustrophobic, like this cardboard box filled with silence and expectations is聽holding me hostage but i do not know why. there is a clumsily wrapped bandage slipping down聽my neck and my jaw aches from holding back all the things i would like to say. like would you聽please stop looking at me like that and i'm sorry for never being enough and yes, i would like to聽feel comfortable in this house with its聽chained doors, closed curtains, and constant competition,聽but that would mean collapsing into myself once again and i am tired of fitting into spaces i am聽not聽meant聽for.
A sense of impending doom clouds even the happier moments, like my grandmother聽winning her battle against cancer or my sister getting first place in an essay competition. You聽wrote in your diary on March 13th, 2020, "I'm sure we'll all come back in a few weeks totally聽fine, but how many of us will be changed because of a loss? I have a flair for the dramatic, but聽what聽if?"聽I聽feel聽the聽same聽way,聽the聽weight聽of聽existential聽dread聽pressing聽against聽my chest.聽"Every聽morning leaves me with a mouthful of sorrow and overflowing lungs. I tell myself it's because聽missing my old life is like a permanent ache but that's not entirely true: I miss it, I do, but more聽than that I miss the person I was back then," I wrote in my diary in February. Restless. I'm聽restless,聽and it's exhausting.
My essay will get haphazardly finished. The music will fade into radio silence. The聽cookies will harden in the heat, and my mom will throw them out tomorrow morning because it's聽not like anyone wanted to eat them anyways. I can't sleep, and my motivation is diminishing聽quicker than my anxiety medication. Everything feels incomplete, like constant pressure on my聽chest, like hands wrapping around my throat. My homework and cookies and music are supposed聽to be reminders that things can be good again, but most of the time, they're just another聽incomplete thought and responsibility. This is the new normal, everyone says, but normalcy feels聽just as聽impossible as聽going聽outside without wearing聽a聽mask,聽and聽I聽don't聽know聽how聽to聽be聽okay聽with that.
