Notes from lockdown: things still change

I wake up and walk in the same clothes I slept in, to the coffee shop a few streets down where I clumsily blurt out my coffee order to the barista. Ten long months ago I decided I had a crush on him and refused to go there unless I felt I was looking my best. I used to try to make small but meaningful conversations with him as I worked up the courage to ask him if he wanted to maybe get a drink sometime, but now my unwashed face is hidden behind a mask and my eyes dart to the side to avoid his. I think he lost his allure in the endless days of this lockdown routine, and I have definitely lost mine (if I ever had it).

*

I sit in the backyard in the sun and roll a cigarette to have with my coffee. Three years ago, I swore I would never smoke. Two years ago, I said I would never buy my own pouch so I could never be a “proper” smoker. Six months ago, I couldn’t understand how anyone could ever have one with their morning coffee. Three months ago, I was quitting once that pouch ran out. Today I take a drag, followed by a sip of coffee and think that coffee is nearly never as strong as I want it to be. Which is a bit like me, I’m nearly never as strong as I want to be.

*

I read a lot. I read an essay about the concept of time and nod to myself understandingly, I read The Alchemist and feel a sense of comfort in all the things that have ever made my heartache, I read The Overstory and apply to study a diploma of Conservation and Land Management, I read messages from friends asking how I am and I can’t bring myself to reply.

*

I spend a lot of time thinking about saving up to buy a house in the country. Instead, I buy an oil diffuser, a hoodie with a picture of David Attenborough on it, a new bikini, matching skeleton costumes for my housemates and I, six records and hotcakes from McDonald’s at 3am. After the fleeting moments of satisfaction these items bring are gone, I think about buying a house in the country again. I think about it being off-grid and sustainable, I think about having big veggie gardens and chickens. Instead, we buy two baby chickens and plant a tiny veggie garden in our Fitzroy sized backyard.

*

I say, “oh no”, quietly as I realise that the task of changing my sheets has somehow brought me to tears. The thought of making a bed to sleep in alone for god knows how many more months makes me feel weird and dizzy. I miss physical touch so much. My housemate hears and comes into my room to help. She makes my bed for me and kisses me on the head goodnight. I decide I’m going to get really good at holding myself.