Just One Year of Love By Krystal Olsen
It has been one year. Three hundred and sixty-five days. One year of the lockdown that was supposed to just be two weeks but lasted the entirety of my twenty-fifth year. It lasted this long for me, at least. I am one of the few people in this country who actually stayed home to stop the spread. Maybe it just feels like I am one of the few because I saw so many people on social media continuing to live normal lives. While all of my other friends have been lackadaisical, I have been still. In 2016, I was diagnosed with celiac disease, which is an autoimmune disease that doesn’t allow my body to digest gluten. Instead, gluten attacks my body. This I’ve learned to avoid after years of practice, but during the pandemic, I had to be extra cautious about catching COVID, or worse, giving it to someone I know. During the pandemic, I became a full-time nanny who had to navigate keeping children present during online learning while still trying to remain a sane 20-something. The last thing I wanted to do was put the family I worked for at risk by being irresponsible, but my god has it been so mentally draining to be responsible. While I sat in my room watching a record amount of television, I also watched people vacation all over the country, vacation out of the country, attend illegal house parties, go to bars packed with people, and even go on dates with strangers unmasked. Most of the year, I got angry. I was annoyed at people for being careless, but I was also jealous. Why did I just waste a year of my twenties while these people selfishly lived on? What did they gain? What did I gain? Was it worth it? I now know that I do not have to live with contributing
The person I was looking for all along was me. It was just me.
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