I’ve passed the point where working and schooling from home and staying inside indefinitely is a novelty. There is this malaise and dread and, yes, fear of what is going to come next, even though there are bits of normalcy peeking through.
I couldn’t put into words exactly how I was feeling lately. “Terrible,” I told a friend. But that didn’t cover everything.
“I keep grasping for a future that looks like the past and it’s just a mirage,” I told her.
Later in the day, I came across two tweets that echoed my mood.
From Helen Rosner:
“Today in therapy we talked about how (for those of us currently healthy and taking isolation seriously) right now we live in an infinite present. No future plans, no anticipation of travel or shows or events or celebrations. It’s an endless today, never tomorrow.”
Manu Saadia said something similar:
“It’s finally beginning to sink in that the pandemic is not a three months inconvenience but a generational upheaval.”
What an absolute bizarre timeline we are living in. I’m trying to write more to get into a rhythm that isn’t just constant doomscrolling. At the same time, it is somewhat fascinating that nearly everyone in the world can probably relate to these two writers’ words.