Trapped: The Virus Breathes

It's inescapable. This itching feeling climbing up my spine. Tingling as if my blood circulation has been temporarily cut off. Yet not severe enough to completely disable me. This creeping feeling has no voice. And it speaks not a single word, yet the feeling tells me one thing very clearly. It isn't safe. No matter how careful I am, the risk to my life and security are always here. Encapsulating me. Each of us. Almost having been frozen or suspended in time by the pandemic. Lingering. Leaving us living to survive, and compelled to turn away from a deeper connection with others. All for the sake of self-preservation. Driven by an instinct to protect oneself and our families.

The walls have gone up, the masks are on and the bubbles on the floors of our local grocery stores have been placed. That's how I best describe it. Justified self-preservation. Where the 'common good' we know philosophers debated for ages, now has an undeniably obvious solution. The 'common good' when the lockdown began was to self-isolate. Remove the risk we pose to each other by limiting contact. Left to delve into the home space, for it has truly been the only safe haven many of us have anymore. Our fortresses and castles with tales of times come to pass.

As we well know, nothing really happens over-night so let's take a look at how we got here. Society had come to a point where it was bloated, in both values and population. With values of capitalism oozing from the concrete and glass, you could say we'd dimmed our internal spark. Monotonous money manufacturers. Produce, earn, achieve. Repeat.... Repeat.... Repeat... Rinse dried residue of reserved resolve, compromised for monetary gain. Making machines out of us through habits. Tasked with carrying out services for the Produce, Earn, Achieve cycle for hours, days, months, years. Working around commutes stressful enough to burn a person out in a matter of months. Stuck producing for pressures of a standard that demanded we sacrifice our well-being and mental health. Treated as if one person is replaceable, instead of revering the uniqueness of individuality. Living within a system intended to benefit off the worth of one another. Women lost in images of each other and airbrushed definition, images shaming their real bodies. As if femininity isn't naturally jaw-dropping herself. Men caught in egoic representations and repressions in fear of their emotional selves. As if masculinity isn't naturally strong enough to understand emotions himself. This conditioned self-loathing is the freedom we all began to pine for when the lockdown began. In a time when the opportunities to perform for a live audience were so suddenly snuffed out.

The forced isolation bourne from the virus had us missing our thriving, self-deprecating society. Here in this era. Where we were just yesterday. Restricted and told it's justified to fear the 'normal' from only a year before. Pining the self-deprecating standards of those good old days, asking for them to return. Whilst masked and monitoring one another at every turn. Such ambivalence seems normal for the cold concrete city. Where many achieve, earn and produce, whilst disassociating. Succeeding according to the standards and cultural norms that are now deformed. Something that becomes deformed doesn't adequately become reformed, does it? Only with the interference of new policy and medicine could anyone reshape our broken. And so it came to be, the savior is in our politicians and modern medicine. Slowing the virus's obscenity with an injection, and hopefully some self-reflection. To hope for a future with concerts, restaurant celebrations, office events, trips to the theater, and many seemingly trivial activities from a time not so distant. A hope that feels tainted.

Well, clearly this crumbled society feels normal to me now. As if I'm trapped by the invisible confines of an unseen threat. Long since acknowledged when full lockdown first hit. Back when the borders closed and we cozied up into our homes. You could say I've accepted this feeling as a state of being. For you never know where the virus might be lurking. Maybe it's waiting for me on the food I've brought home from the grocery store, or the money I put in my wallet earlier, or on a congratulatory handshake at work, or perhaps on that welcoming hug from a friend...Not worth it. The voice that doesn't speak tells my body no. My life is worth it, my survival is paramount. It's the risk that isn't worth it. I have to keep safe from the threats of the world around me. There's no going back to the society we indulged in before. The old way didn't work, that's why Mother Earth had us suffer at the whim of the virus. The virus that punishes our self-indulgence. Mirroring the great flood and the ark that saved so few. Almost asking us to repent for our super social behaviors, our connected circles, and our business prowess. To repent for supporting a broken system with many flaws. The kind of flaws that have only been highlighted through the recent struggles of the pandemic. Where the needs of the people were too great and resources were unequally distributed. With a population exceeding the natural resources Mother Earth can produce for us. One could argue it was inevitable. Bourne from mass inflation. So I wonder if there's a lesson to learn here or a trait to be redeemed.

It's complicated trying to read people's faces, to seek what they mean when you can only see their eyes and hairline. Well, we also get an eyeful of their fashion choices as we walk 6 ft away from each other on the streets. From this distance, I watch us struggle to feel connected. Longing to experience humanity without the borders of self-preservation getting in the way. But they keep getting in the way, no matter what the health experts have to say. The creeping sensation lurks and won't let me forget the virus's threat.

The virus won't leave us. It's here to consume us. Much like we consume the air cleansed through earth's luscious trees. We, humans, breathe in life-giving Oxygen then release what we don't need as CO2, to return to those luscious trees. A harmonious cycle. Proof we once had a divine balance. Now our way of living has changed, become deranged and entangled. Controlled by an unseeable force. The Virus. It watches, waiting for the next unsuspecting victim. For a host, to boast the higher body count. To infect them, then carry on to another. Watch your breath. Cover your mouth. Stand at a distance. Best not to bother with others. Simply don't engage one another. It's conditioned now. I can barely imagine returning to the comfort of closeness, and the extravagant debauchery that flowed in our crumpled capitalism anymore.

Now here we are. After months of trials, the vaccine has rolled out. Bringing with it the promise of a normal social life. Yet the tingling feeling that speaks with no voice tells me otherwise. It says this isn't over. I shouldn't get complacent or feel safe just yet. This society hasn't been refurbished. People are still segregated. It's just altered. Segregated for more than the good old class or tax-bracket variations, but now also for vaccine status. These changes have only added another layer and left an imprint on our society. A dent in our sense of safety and our social comforts. As we remain, trapped.