What it Feels Like to Live the Same Day Over and Over Again
Alexis Barbosa // As Told By Riley Keel
December 7, 2020
Monday. My eyes jerk open to the sound of my alarm. The clock on the home screen of my phone reads 8:00 am. I do not wish to wake up, but I have to. I sluggishly force myself out of my bed. Time for my morning chores. I head over to the computer to start my day of online school. First, I check my email to see what my day is going to look like. Most of the time, I am disappointed. Disappointed, but not surprised.
I stare aimlessly at the screen in front of me for four hours. As the day goes on it feels like I am submerging into water, the longer I look at the screen the further down I get pushed into the deep end.
At the start of first period, the water only reaches my waist. Second period rolls around, and now the water is at my forearms. It keeps rising higher and higher, and I cannot make it stop. Everytime I blink, the water gets closer to my head. There is no moment to spare. I have to get out. I have to reach out. I need something. I am going to drown. Just as I feel my body give in and accept that I am going to drown, the water is drained. The clock on my phone reads 11:30am. Lunch. I can breathe again. The water is gone.
My lunch period is the only time of the school day that makes me feel at ease. My brain gets to rest for forty minutes. For forty minutes I am at shore; I am free of the possibility of drowning. Then, the cycle continues once again at the end of the fifth period. The water gets closer and closer to the top of my head, and I have accepted my fate. I want to give up. I want the days to be easy again. Then once again, I am saved by the bell. My clock now reads 2:25. I am free. For now.
Finally, school is over, but in a lot of ways this is just the beginning. The school day may be over but there is so much daylight still left in the day. I take a breath and start my homework. I race to get as much of it done as I can before I have to go to work. Every so often, I glance over at my phone. I do this one last time before realizing I have to get ready for work. I sluggishly walk in, but I can’t let that affect the job that I have to get done.
My work has had to adapt to the changes that the pandemic has brought with it. Due to the virus, we have to go to work earlier than before because we have to sanitize everything, so if I want to have time to myself, I have to do everything much earlier. This causes me to put off time with friends and family, and as a result my mental health has plummeted. Since the beginning of the pandemic in March, I have felt my mental health decline. It feels as if I am merely floating in an ocean with no way to get to shore.
Finally work is over. After a long day of stress I go to bed knowing that I am forced to repeat the day that I just had over and over again. Not knowing when the cycle will end.
To me, everyday is connected. It is all mushed into one never ending day. Everyday is the same. There is nothing new or exciting anymore. There is little to nothing to look forward to. I am forced to plan my entire day according to what remote learning demands of me. The workload that we receive is nothing close to bearable.
When coronavirus hit the United States back, there was a form of uncertainty that gave us a sense of excitement. It was new. It was something that we have never experienced. As negative as it was, the uncertainty gave us all a little bit of a rush.
Our busy lives were forced to seize on March 13, 2020. Since that day, it feels like we have yet to come out of our “pause.” Everyday feels the same, and there is nothing that any of us can do about it. I just want to get out. I want my life to be normal again.
My eyes drift off as the day comes to an end, and for a moment, I feel at peace. Then, it hits me once again. Tomorrow is going to be the same day as today. And the day after that, and the day after that. My eyes finally shut and I am now able to let myself forget about the nightmare that I currently live in.
Tuesday. My eyes jerk open to the sound of my alarm. The clock on the home screen of my phone reads 8:00 am. I do not wish to wake up, but I have to. I sluggishly force myself out of my bed. Time for my morning chores. I head over to the computer to start my day of online school. First I check my email to see what my day is going to look like, and just like everyday I am disappointed. Disappointed, but not surprised.