Grace

It's July 2021. 

The skies are dark, my curtains are closed, there's a little fly flying around my face, there's no wind, the air around me is still. 

My head is heavy, my heart is a slow. In the current context, this is good news because it means I'm not having another unwelcomed anxiety attack. But there is a very heavy emptiness, a very numbing pain that courses through me.

Things are kinda just... stagnant. We're still in lockdown, MCO 3.0 they call it. In my own selfish ways, I actually hope that this continues. Inherently, it could be human nature to desire progress and change and being able to find direction in their lives, and usually, its forward. 

Not me, though. I don't want the world to move on. People want this for the perception that the future is a better place to be than now. They have this hope that I can't seem to grasp, where the future is somehow a more positive place. It doesn't make sense to me. We all kinda feel that the past is better, and by past, it usually means the memories of the past. All those sayings about the 'good old days'. Won't we look back at this time and say the 'good old days' in 2022 (hopefully, or not)?

There's always good things and bad things and somehow it all coexists and we're forced to live in this whirl or good and bad. As I always said, most people are just people trying to be more good than bad. Some, are the opposite. 

What am I? 

The future isn't going to be better. Not for me at least. I don't look forward to the future, and when (not if) the world moves on, I'd have nothing left to hold onto. It isn't the past I'm holding onto, that's died. But whatever this future is, it doesn't have me in it. 

It feels like I've stopped living since December 2020. But here we are, 7 months later. I'm still begrudgingly alive. Fck. 

There's no update. 

Just this road, going to nowhere. I guess I'm not moving.