The Isolation Journals Week #6

The Isolation Journals is a weekly post on life during the unofficial lockdown or Restricted Movement Order (RMO). The journal will be updated every Wednesday. This is the journal for Week 6. 

By Farhira Farudin

Brace yourselves. This is a rant. And pray that it won't be a long one.

God I am soooooooooo exhausted.

I am tired of the online classes. I no longer want to hear my lecturers teaching through my computer screen, I want to see them in class. I don't want to click on my friend's photo in the chatroom just so I could see their face, I want to sit in front of them and have lunch together. I don't want to feel the guilt for buying more prepaid just so I could have faster Internet connection or else I could barely enter the chatroom. I hate the feeling of rush when I had to do multiple assignments at once. I hate losing the track of time due to being stagnant in one place for two months straight.

I am tired of being anxious. Not knowing when the new normal will end. Scared if the virus will never be gone. Clueless if the future is still bright for me. Nervous thinking about possible future unemployment. I just want a good life. My mental health simply won't allow me to live a good life.

I am tired of being angry. My family for expecting too much. The government for putting the economy before the welfare of the people. The government for pretending as if they care about us. The people in power who can do something but refused to. The people with money who oppress those without. Endless tirades on Twitter. Idiots on Facebook. But most of all, I am angry at myself for caring too much. I'm mostly angry at myself and no one else. The anger comes from me. 

I am tired of the distance. I crave for human interaction outside of my family. I miss laughing at three in the morning with my friends even when we promised to sleep at 11. I miss going out for dinner with them. I miss venting out our frustrations on boys. I miss going on random trips. Planned trips that took years to prepare. The food we order and share together. I miss the late night drives. The adrenaline rush. The risks we take to have fun. I miss the feeling of being alive. 

And then I tell myself this isn't about me.

The whole world is experiencing the same thing. Living in the same fear. Anticipating the same happy ending.

Every day I learn to be grateful to be lucky. But I am also allowed to be exhausted. 

Let me be tired in peace. Let me wallow in self-pity. Let me mourn the good times and wish they would return soon. Let me write all the journals and personal essays on what it's like to live during the pandemic. 

Just let me be. 

I am trying to be optimistic but I am the most pessimist person you will ever meet. 

What is with gratitude that belittle others who have it worse than us? I can't feel grateful when the world is a terrible place to live in. Children are locked up but people think it's fine because their parents are undocumented. We aren't allowed to hold the government accountable because at least they are doing something. We are supposed to be grateful that the virus is more vulnerable to older people and people with long term medical conditions as if they are disposable casualties. We are about to have the first trillionaire in the world but he refuses to do anything about world hunger. The world is a sick, sick place. I just don't know how to be okay. I am not doing okay personally. The tragedy of this world doesn't help anyone's situation. Being hopeful is nice, but I'd like it very much if we are realistic as well. Just because I have it better than other people doesn't mean I am not allowed to empathize those who have it worse than me. Don't tell me to be grateful when the world is evil and people are dying and we are on the trajectory of no meaningful ending.

I just don't know if I can pretend I'm okay anymore.