This morning I woke up with a haunting epiphany: it has been one year (almost).
(roughly) A whole year in some perpetual nightmare. Before this I was working on my social anxiety and agoraphobia after recovering from DV. And now, the whole world has agoraphobia, and I am not sure whether or not I should be relieved that we are all on the same page, or horrified that we have all taken a mental toll. All of the instability, the dissolving of friendships and families, everybody is sad, scared, divided, and *about* one year older. The musicians and artists who we didn't see, claustrophobia, losing jobs and businesses, and watching prices climb, mortality, the homeless having limited options, parents struggling, kids stuck at home and who knows if it is a safe home, the people who don't uphold human rights, military police, lonely people feeling even more lonely, being outside is weird now, meeting people, dating(?1!//??how is anyone even handling that this year omg!?). Hit me as hard as you want with civic duty, but two things can be true. This has been torture. I MISS REAL LIFE. Two weeks and now (nearly) a year. Grief is making it hard to feel anything.