Afterschool
Ah, another day of online school is over. I stare at my photo album for no particular reason. It’s full of smiles, happiness, and bondings less than six feet apart. It’s been a couple of months since any of that has happened, so grasping a blast from the past surely helps me remember the times when the people wearing masks weren’t here.
There's a Jazz club starting now, and so I quickly, and reluctantly, log into Zoom yet again, adding another hour to my total hours on Zoom. Charlie Parker’s music and the major blues scales flow in and out of my head for the next hour; not catching any information at all. All that is in my mind is What would this Jazz club be like in person? How come my first year in highschool, one of the most important years in my life, is in my house over ludicrous Zoom? Zoom would make a lot of money if they charged some money per meeting. How many miles can you go if you drive thirty miles per gallon in a 400 gallon truck…
Ah, club is done, what’s next on my list? Right, I need to finish this math worksheet, study for the chemistry test tomorrow, read chapter three of this Dickens book, and while I’m at it, I’ll also review some Chinese with this study set.
My friends in that photo album have stopped texting me, even after I reached out to them many times. They’re right there, in my texts, just two taps away, yet they feel...gone. Where did they go? What happened to all the moments we shared before this cursed pandemic? Why hasn’t anyone held a conversation with me? Were they just some phoneys? Maybe their phones have been lost, or maybe they moved to a picturesque Caribbean island without any internet connection, or maybe their old, overprotective parents think the virus can spread through text, or maybe…
My parents now tell me that dinner is ready, so I quickly drop all my work and head downstairs. Though eating anything makes me feel sick, I’d do anything to get away from school work. On the dinner table lies a meatloaf that’s still half cold despite it’s two minute bath in the microwave. My parents are nowhere in sight. I look out the window while the cold meatloaf sits on the plate, as if it’s a reminder of my burdens. I haven’t even touched it. After browsing through my phone a bit and not touching my food, I head upstairs with a granola bar, and take the easy way out. That’s how I am.
Ever since Covid canceled all my activities, and separated me from all my friends, my life has been an endless cycle of pathetic-ness like this. I never smile anymore, nor do I feel any happiness. My parents don’t exactly care about me as well.
I should get to studying because the chemistry test won’t be so easy on me, and if I fail another test then…who cares? Everything’s online anyway. I don’t know the teachers and they don’t know me. The educational, working environment of a classroom that I knew so well has escaped me, only to be filled by my dim room, full of litter, apathy, and reeking of depression. Instead of attending school with a table amongst fellow human beings, I sit on my bed, which hasn’t been made in months.
Does Covid hit everyone like this? Why do I feel like I’m the only one down here?
Anyway, my homework isn’t done. I’ll go finish that up...later.
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