We are depressed. We are trying. I have started to buy random things. Expensive things. Things that I do not need. It has not made me feel any better. The days are the same. It is Wednesday but it feels like it should be Friday. My son needs to do more things but I struggle with what that would be. I don’t have the motivation to fight much about it.
I look in the mirror. I have admittedly given up on my hair. There is truly nothing that can be done. The back ends curl up. Like the girl in the Wendy’s logo. It has three distinct sections. The top. Then the middle that covers my ears. And then the back that lies on my neck but is too short to put up. I hate it. I hate it but don’t care enough about it to do anything. When I go out, I put a mask on. No one knows who I am anyway. Invisible.
I have giant circles under my eyes. They look a little like allergic shiners. But I don’t think that is what they are. Maybe they will just get larger and larger until they encompass my entire face. Creep down until my entire body is a purply yellowy mish mash. Maybe it is an as yet undiagnosed symptom of COVID.
I wonder if we would feel better if the sun would shine for more than one day in a row. If I could see the end. And I conflate pandemic with elections in the fall. So much is fraught with uncertainty. And there is so much worry. A second spike. I will continue to sit on my food horde. And maybe add to it. Because I see no way out. I can’t see the normal. I can’t feel it. I can’t get pandemic out of my head. And maybe that is the enduring legacy of COVID for those of us who (hopefully) do not contract it. A head full of fear. A head full of doubt. About our future. About my son’s future. About our country’s future. I don’t know that there will be a vaccine for that. Ever.