Quarantine: a state, period, or place of isolation in which people or animals that have arrived from elsewhere or been exposed to infectious or contagious disease are placed.

Maybe a week. Maybe a month. Maybe two months. Slowly my mind starts to lose count of the weeks, days, even hours as they dance by. The clocks hands seem to be running a marathon as I sit for what I see as a simple moment while others watch for days. My brain tells me it’s okay to be lazy every now and then, or that I can just do that later. I find myself not wanting to leave my bed because what’s even the point anymore? I wake up, work, sleep, repeat. Time isn’t a simple tracker it’s a haze that I reach out for but can barely grasp and when I think I have it held as tight as I can it turns to liquid and falls into the abyss of nothing because I no longer see what is around me, just simply myself. Mirrors everywhere only showing me a version of myself I have never met. I simply say, that’s not me. It’s not that bad. When really, I am looking right into the eyes of the most real version of myself anyone has ever seen.

What does this have to do with a disease? We simply feel lazy and bored. Right? We miss seeing others and socializing. Although what about the ones who never wanted to leave their house in the first place? The ones who already felt trapped with no way out. The ones who already felt quarantined in their own mind. So why does this disease cause so many symptoms for them as well? A pounding head, the time flies by. A runny nose, and the same thoughts that plagued their minds from the very start. The same tears that they shed every day still haven’t left. Why? Because the mirrors around them were shattered, and the expectation of what was behind those mirrors was so horrifying that they pulled a blanket over their head and refused to even peek at the world behind the mirrors. They roam around never removing that blanket because even there being a slight possibility that their fears are true is enough to keep them concealed behind that blanket.

Quarantine is like being caught in the middle of a tornado of color, while being blind. It’s beautiful, but when all you can feel is the pull and push of the winds, you deny yourself the privilege to even dare to look for a way out, you simply wait for it to stop. Spinning, spinning, spinning. Push, pull, push, pull, push, pull. But it doesn’t stop. It never does. Until you open your eyes.