lost.

The impact of the pandemic, for me, has shrouded the certainty I had for the future merely months ago – this has become the norm.

from the people i’ve talked to, it seems the general vibe is that nobody is really sure how the world is still spinning and everyone is doing what they’re told and crossing their fingers that it all works out.

I’ve heard stories from people missing out on what likely would’ve been life-changing or mind-altering events like travel, employment, university, or moving house and I see the people behind those stories and I, myself, feel disappointed that their growth has been put on pause.

 

from what I’ve seen, huge demographics of people are losing what connected them to others, while also letting the passion they hold for certain parts of their identity burn out and die.

 

year twelves. we’ve been forced to take the sidelines on what was supposed to be our magnum opus of our school lives – a year of chaos and unbridled hangovers and cramming for SACs and absurd haircuts.

yet here we are. confined to our rooms. banned from the luxuries we’d only just come to get used to.

 

the world we knew and grew reliant on is gone and in its place, we have an uncertain amount of time to ourselves and only ourselves.
that’s dangerous.

I’m concerned for loss of identity because of mostly what I’ve seen happen to myself.

thanks to not being able to go to school and not getting rostered at work (another symbol of 2020), the plan I had for my future seems less and less likely to come to fruition.

alongside the many doubts that develop daily about my future, I also find myself doubting if that’s the future I really was dedicated to at all.

 

for reference, I want to run away and become a journalist. or an author. I don’t know, but i do know that i want to write what i want to write and to make a living from that would be a dream come true.

but with that said, to get to that dream as soon as possible I’d have to go to uni, which means deciding what course I want to go with. But I’ve got no clear preferance on studying Journalism or Creative Writing, so maybe I should do an arts degree instead. But then with that said, I could get tempted by the other stuff there, like Photography and Programming.
Okay then, choose Journalism.
Alright, but now I’ve got to worry about which university will give me the best pathway into the industry and whether my writing is suited for journalism and also aren’t there like twenty different versions of journalism? it’s such a broad umbrella term that could mean bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla.
Okay then, choose Creative Writing.
Sure, but how do I have any clue whether or not my writing is going to be up there with everyone else applying, i mean i have to write three different creative pieces for the application alone and fuck knows where i’m supposed to pull three pieces of creative writing from – besides, there’s no guarantee the course will end up in a career anyway, do you really think you have what it takes to bla bla bla bla bla bla bla.

Didn’t you want to be an actor anyway?

 

I don’t know, guys.

With everything that’s going on I feel like I’ve lost all the passion I had for everything I used to love.

being around people.
writing.
reading.
caring about my appearance.
maintaining a sense of self.
eating.

with everything i used to rely on gone, the people i used to be around gone, the passion for the things i used to care for gone, and being confined to an uncertain amount of time with my own thoughts, i feel as though I’ve been confiscated of everything I used to be.

and the idea of that only applying to me sucks, so I’m loosely theorising based off of my limited experience with other people that

maybe not exactly, but in one sense or another we’re all feeling

i don’t know.

lost?

 

 

oh well. time passes, and I’m sure we’ll all see this pandemic through and we’ll all have some baller stories to tell our offspring or whatever.