THE covid Months | TEENAGE LOCKDOWN
CHAZ age 17
Anon. age 21
Gone are the days
But not for long
These are the days
These days are gone
Anon. age 18
Sometimes I crave silence. Sometimes I crave peace and quiet and being away from everything and everyone. Sometimes all I want is the white noise inside my head. Sometimes the silence I crave turns out to be too loud; deafening. It screams in my ears, is the voice of all my anxiety and all of my fears. I can stand the screaming. I’ve had screaming all my life.
My eyes are heavy and itching and yet I refuse to sleep. 2:20 am and I refuse to sleep. Why? What horrors does the day bring that make the night so welcoming? When I was depressed, I used to fear the night because that was when I would feel the worst. But it never mattered because the following morning I would curse the sun rising. Those were dark times I don’t miss at all.
My existence is a confused jumble of moments in which I feel safe and certain or scared and indecisive. Every single instant feels like a life-changing moment - for better or worse. Press a button, choose your action, accept the bad or good ending knowing there’s no replaying the game. There’s no erasing the save file, no renaming the character, no taking the SideQuest you never did. Play it right or it’s over. It’s not a comfortable console at home, it’s a arcade game in the early 80’s. One coin, one game, one chance. Jump over the barrel or you’re done. Did I screw it up? Am I going to?
I hate college for stalling my life and I feel like everything is a dead end. Then the two commissions that validate me as an artist, as someone noteworthy for my craft. It’s all up and downs and I’m tired and excited and I can’t unclench my jaw or let the tension off my shoulders. I’m so lonely and yet so sure of myself, pushing others away, playing the soft smirk charming girl too good for you, too smart for you. I used to wear my heart on my sleeve but now I hide it in a pocket that I’ve hand-sewn shut so that no one can see it and It’s safe and sound. I want cuddles and kind whispered words of love and worship but I also want careless intimacy and pressed bodies against the wall. “All” or “none”? Can I only have “some”? Are all Geminis indecisive? Are all bisexuals afraid of commitment? Do abusive relationships make it impossible to make connections? Is there something wrong with me or is it all a sum of what my life has led me to?
There’s no longer security in tomorrow, who I’ll be or who those outside will pretend to be. The laws are a shambles, respect forgotten. How long will I be trapped inside, in my mind? I want it to go back, it was bad, but at least you didn’t see how ugly humanity was.