THE QUARANTINE JOURNAL
Written by Diego L. Pedroza
The streets of Milwaukee, your city, are deserted. Summerfest was cancelled, classes went online, and you've been inside for 2 months.
[[Start writing your quarantine journal]]
April 16th, 2020.
It’s been uhm, fuck if you remember. It’s been enough. At first you thought you were going to be a natural at quarantine. You’ve been successfully avoiding your friends for ages. Without the government or social distancing being involved: [[Depressing Flashback]]
You remember just months ago, a room with the curtains closed making it seem darker than it is, although a bit of light seeps through the gaps. You werelaying motionlessly on your bed, just like now, except you had no excuse then. Your phone rings. You instantly sigh and take a moment before even looking at the name displayed on the screen. Once you see it, you consider for a bit, but ultimately let it go to voicemail. [[End of Depressing Flashback]]
You told yourself you'd finally pursue the things that you couldn’t do pre-quarantine because you didn’t have the time. And you did actually try. You dabbled in French for a bit and messed around with the guitar, but all of that lasted like, less than Richard.<i> Oh, Richard, he wasn’t too bad</i>, you think. You were was just too craz-- Nah he was fucking boring as fuck. You don’t feel the need to be nice to shit men anymore just because you're generally a nice person. He was boring and an alcoholic. Imagine being stuck with a guy like that on quarantine. That’d be more anxiety inducing than the actual pandemic. That’s the kind of guy Richard was, so of course it didn’t last. Unfortunately, [[French and guitar didn’t either.]]
This flashback is a bit less depressing: You're messing with the guitar, but ultimately get frustrated. It just doesn't feel like your fingers are long enough. You give up and decide to at least figure out French. You put on the French film ‘Amelie’ and repeat some lines to yourself, with a little notebook of notes and eating strawberries in a hoodie. You imitate Amelie's pronunciation, while still paying attention to the movie. At some point Richard calls your phone, but it's silenced and you're not paying attention to it. A lot of messages are piling up, notification after notification from a number you saved as ‘RICHARD DUMB FUCK’.
[[Back to the Present]]You're sitting on your bed, until you get frustrated and decisively launch out of your room and into the bathroom. You turn on the light and standing in front of the mirror, you say:
"This might have to do with me being completely alone, but sometimes I’ll look at myself in the mirror just to remind me that I’m still real, if that makes any sense. Not only does it serve as a reality check, but also reminds me of the undeniable babe that I am. Quarantine is looking great on me, if we’re being honest here. I mean, it’s the end of the world, isn’t it? I can say whatever the fuck I want without getting too self-aware about it, right? Who gives a fuck? Uhm… (you're loud and excited as you confess to the mirror) Gray pants look pretty fucking amazing on guys! (You think to yourself, then back to the mirror) Donald Trump is a fucking idiot! Uh… not really a hot take is it?, Uhmmm… (pause) God, I’m boring, I have no controversial thoughts to yell to the heavens…"
You get frustrated with yourself again and [[go back to your room to find the your journal and start writing again.]]
You take a few moments to take deep breathes, and you jot the following:
<i>But anyways. Like Richard, French, and the electric guitar; I hope that, this too, passes faster than I expected. Most importantly, that it passes. Actually, the world’s already going to shits, I don’t wanna be part of the Apocalypse Group, you know? I don’t hope, I know, that this too will pass. Like everything else. I hope I remain enthusiastic in my next entry, or that the next is finally the last one. But I guess we’ll see, staying optimistic though. It’s supposed to be good for you, it’s like being vegan but for the brain, a brain-diet if you will. Okay, I’m gonna go. Yeah it’s time for me to go.</i>
Once you're done writing, you take a pause and shut the little notebook, smiling to yourself. You believe what you just wrote. This will pass.