I'm feeling particularly dismal this week.
When is the appropriate time to run up the white flag? Give up the struggle? Stand on top of a hill in a thunderstorm brandishing a golf club? I'm pretty sure we're headed for it at break-neck speed, if we haven't blown past it already.
I don't think there is any recovering from this.
We've let everything go on too long with half-assed (at best) attempts to stop or at least contain this stupid virus, and all it got us was a new strain for Christmas. Or so I've heard--I'm back to avoiding the news with more fervor than usual.
Take a hint, humanity. You're yesterday's cold mashed potatoes.
"The way things used to be" is exactly that, now. The odds of us getting back to how we were living before this happened are slimming down as we speak. You've had your last Coachella, kids. No more live games, sports fans. No more cultural or media events, hobnobbers. No more sip-and-stroll-style local doo-dahs, hometowners.
No more painful compulsory school recitals. I'll put that in the "Pro" column. You're welcome, parents with ears.
At this point, I'm beginning the mental preparations for living in these 614 square feet and not seeing my friends or family for the rest of my life. It makes you wonder what the point was in the first place. I mean, that's a whole other can of worms, the "what is the point of life" argument, but if all this nonsense hasn't converted you to the "it's definitely pointless" side, you may want to get your head checked.
I'm trying to fill the space, I swear. I have so many things sitting around here half-finished. Things I'm still definitely interested in completing! But then that old "why bother" comes to visit and I'm circling the drain again.
I bet most of you are feeling some or all of this--or more. You're dealing with it differently. We're doing the best we can with what we have. What more can we do, right? It's just a matter of waking up and pushing through and falling asleep at night to the pleasant thought of the sun possibly going supernova while you're sawing logs and taking the strain off you.
Burn it to the ground and start again. Except maybe don't, because this version of the experiment was an unmitigated failure.
No comments:
Post a Comment