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Written by Annonymous, Hour 1 I have discovered that the weather reflects how I feel about everything going on in the world. One moment a day could be sunny without a cloud in the sky, and then the next, it is about to storm with cold pouring rain. Similarly, are my feelings toward the coronavirus and quarantine. Oftentimes, I feel very happy without a trace of fear or worry about everything caused by the virus, similar to a warm, sunny, cloudless day that makes everything seem clear and happy. Other days, like a sky filled with gigantic floating marshmallow clouds gently gliding across the sky with a soft breeze, I feel peaceful and grateful.  The virus gave me a chance to take a break from my previous everyday life which never gave me a chance to slow down and take a breath to be able to take time, relax, and regroup. I can almost picture myself falling into a poofy cloud and riding it peacefully to where ever it takes me next. On the other hand, the virus has changed my everyday life from going to school and activities to even getting to hang out with friends, making me as frustrated and angry as a raging thunderstorm with bright flashing lightning and booming thunder shaking even the most sound parts of a foundation, but I know once the storm passes, a beautiful day will arise filled with new chances and opportunities. Coronavirus has sent me on a wild roller coaster of feelings relating to events going on in the world, similar to the always changing weather.
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Written by Annonymous, Hour 7 Right now is a time of change. There is probably not one single person in this country whose life is the same as it was only a couple of months ago. However, my challenge doesn’t come from the change of schedule, the change of pace, the change of my social life... I’m an introvert. I’m perfectly willing to stay safe in my little cocoon.
 My house has been a whirlwind of change. Not the kind that comes from a global health pandemic, but the inevitable, encroaching kind fueled by the irreversible trend of growing older. Growing up. Growing out. Growing… apart? I hope not, but that was my fear when my sibling said that they wanted their own room. Our time to talk was already squeezed by the busy schedules of school, homework, and extracurricular activities. Right before bed was the one time I could be sure that we could have a conversation without being interrupted. Perhaps the pandemic simply expedited what was going to happen anyway. Suddenly, we have a lot of time on our hands. Why not paint the bedroom? Why not construct the bed? Why not completely move into the new room while you’re at it? It was so fast, I didn’t have time to process it. Suddenly, for the first time since I was less than two, I had a bedroom to myself. Once again, it wouldn’t really be a problem if the rest of quarantine wasn’t already a complete reversal of my life. However, the pandemic means that I am isolated from the rest of my friends and most of my human contact. A bedroom to myself, and an unfamiliar one at that. In the cyclone of remodeling and repositioning that took place trying to fit furniture that used to be downstairs into my room, almost nothing was where it used to be. In the process, I had to let go of a lot of things from my childhood. I started to chip away at my magpie hoard of memories for the sake of a more organized present. I had collected things just for the sake of having them, relics that were tied to specific moments of my past. They were an inventory of events, of identities, that the human brain simply can’t contain by itself. As I go through my things, heaped into one big pile on the floor like the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, I think about the person that thought they were worthy of keeping, and how different I must have become if I no longer have the same attachment. I feel like I’m erasing my foundation, piece by piece. In short, this is my real portage. If that process paper assignment [from first quarter of American Literature] was given to me now, I would actually have something to write about. I’m Vivian [from the novel Orphan Train] in the attic, choosing which pieces of my past should determine my future. However, I don’t have the option of just looking at everything and setting it aside. I need to let go of some things in order to move on to the next stage of my life. Maybe, once it’s safe to come out of my chrysalis, I’ll be able to fly without the added weight of the past on my shoulders. I certainly hope so. I’d like to believe that everything going on will become a change for the better. In the meantime, I’ll hold on to the anchors that I have left, and wait out the storm like we all must do. Written by Avery, Hour 7 Change. It is such a strong and powerful word. The ability to master it is one of the hardest things to do. Constantly moving, forever flowing. The idea of being flexible with change right now is huge. Things In our world and society today are changing by the minute. The world is full of unknowns and we get new information left and right. Right now one of the very best things a person can do is be flexible with change. Moving through life down one path and then all of the sudden being ripped down another in the opposite direction can be horrifying but the ability to harness this whirlwind of emotions is so important. Any and all change, even for the good, always comes along with the feeling of discomfort but staying in the same safe place is about embracing the change as a way to better yourself. To improve ourselves in this very world we must change.
Change is the only thing consistent in our lives and we must learn to embrace it even if it takes our whole lives. Change is hard but in the end, it will blossom you into a better person than before. Written by C. Jones, Hour 8 black wings yellow eyes
i wallow in grime leaning against a throne smoke rings buzzing flies they look down slowly slouched in cold metal a smile a grimace comradery in hell’s keep the world pulses quickly isssss it hard, the changesssss? for onzzzzzzzzzze i do not know. ~conversations in hell.i |
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