Love In The Time Of Pandemic

Chapter 1

Everyone was in fear mode. It seems that people who normally would sit around blasting others for being fearful were fearful as well. Was fear going to be the new norm? Or was it always there under the surface, and I just didn't notice it?

It's kind of funny how we all used to make fun of the conspiracy theorists. "They don't know what they are talking about. They have no idea what they are saying. They are idiots. They must have shit for brains."

They were the ones who kind of prepared for this situation. They were the ones who had food, water, and toilet paper hoarded for years. They were the ones who learned how to grow their own food, and make their own electricity and clean water. They were the ones who are safe and sound in their cabins in the woods, with shotguns lying by their bedsides, and couches.

We were the ones who sat here, looking like idiots.

Especially me.

While the pandemic was going on around me, I sat in my cozy little apartment, thinking that everything was just going to stay status quo. I didn't hoard any food, or even learn any skill for surviving. I barely know how to use a single weapon, except a pen, which believe me folks, is not mightier than a sword in times like these.

I didn't know how to cook, having relied on takeout meals, and my mum's home cooking my entire life. I don't know how to catch fish, or clean a chicken, or slaughter a pig. I was rubbish at camping, which is what my entire life has become now. And I absolutely could not deal with bugs of any kind. My campsite, if you could call it that, our survival campground as others were calling it, has hundreds of bugs of all kinds, and snakes that slither in from nowhere. It also has rats the size of cats.

My formal education did not prepare me for this. Neither did it prepare me for sitting around a fire, in the middle of the night, sitting guard, in case the people from some other camp attack and try to steal our supplies.

This kind of felt like one of my Burning Man experiences, but, and this is a big but, I was there by choice. And I had a shower in my camp. In addition, other people from other camps didn't come with hatred and fear in their hearts, but joy, love, and a sharing and giving attitude. I received so much from them. It made me tear up thinking of it.

The night was cold.

Was it just me? Or was it extremely cold whenever I was supposed to be on duty at night?

I felt like an idiot, because when they warned us to have a bag ready in case we needed to escape our homes, I hadn't actually packed anything. In fact, when the sirens started warnings us to leave our homes, and run, all I picked up was my little Chanel handbag with my wallet, phone, and mobile charger in it. I also had a few pieces of gum, and stuff in there. Thankfully, the officer who was checking up on all of us looked me up and down, and told me to go back and get some warm clothes. I had been wearing my cut-off jeans, with holes on my asscheek, and knees - it was quite stylish at the time, and a tank top with spaghetti straps.

Thankfully, I grabbed my North Face jacket, which was warm as fuck, and my warm Timberland boots, which could take anything the world threw at them. I still had my spaghetti strap tank top and torn up jeans underneath it, but that was fine I thought. This period of panic and exile wouldn't last forever, would it??

Ten days later, I am still sitting here in the same camp that I ended up in that day, with the same clothes, unwashed for days, and smelling worse than I have ever smelled.

I didn't think about bringing any deodorant with me.

In fact, if I had been smart about it, I would have had some supplies with me, like the others did. Instead, I have a phone that's useless, because we have no running electricity here. And if it does come on for a few hours, we use it for essential charging only. A phone doesn't count. Either way, there's no signal, anyways. And I have money which is again useless. No one can use these shitty pieces of paper any more. They have no value any longer.