At the moment, I feel like I’m struggling a little. Not enough to ask for any help. I’m seriously okay, I think.
But enough to write about it. It bothers me. I don’t feel like life is right, right now. And, obviously it’s not. I’ll stop beating around the bush.
I’m tired. I’m tired of living like this. No “real” human connection because of Covid. Feeling stressed at work. Feeling torn about whether to pushback future plans for another year, or to take advantage of the world as it is now.
I wish I could escape. Go somewhere, where time seems to slow. I hate that it feels like my prime years are going to be affected by this virus. Gyms shut. Money struggles within the family. Survival of the fittest but I have to go to work. I have to be at risk, in the face of it all.
I’ve lost what it means to be alive it seems. Everything revolves around the virus. I reinforce it too. I wear my mask, I practice social distancing. I give my life to the virus. Literally. What does it mean to be alive now? Has time changed the meaning? Have I witnessed a revolution?