Monday 4/27/20—Quarantine Day 44

Dear Coco,

I am writing from bed today, because that is allowed when one has been on lockdown in their home for nearly two months. It’s late afternoon, and the sun is bright and sharp as it slices through my thin curtains, leaving shadows to float across the walls of my bedroom.

I’d rather it were gloomy outside. This warm weather feels cruelly incongruous with the mood of the world.

Maybe incongruity is the mood.

I woke up groggy and unmotivated this morning, but I mustered enough determination to practice yoga and make breakfast for Nathan and I before going back to bed to continue my binge of Deadwood.

I’d rather not be writing at all, but I’ve made a promise to myself to write every day, no matter what. Not much to report today, except that sometimes—more often than not—I feel panicked at the idea of the lockdown being lifted, and everyone being “allowed” to return to the “real world.”

What if I don’t want to go back to the way things were? What if I was tired? What if I was sad? What if I was lost?

What if this quarantine feels more like a blessing than a curse to me? Is that something I should be ashamed to admit?

Or is it just another incongruity?

I’m not sure yet, so for now, let’s just keep this between you and me:

I don’t ever want to go back to the “real world.” It feels less real every day. It feels old, and out of reach—or maybe out of touch.

The old world was out of touch with a certain softness, a certain humanness, a certain longing of mine that I was desperate to grab hold of.

Going back to that old world feels like falling backward, down and down and down.

I only want to move forward, into new worlds.

Do you have any ideas for how we could create one? A safe place we could emerge into, once we’re all able to leave our homes again?