The lonely birthday

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It started on the 23rd of march, the lockdown in the uk. My birthday was on the 29th and I would be 31 years old.

It was my first birthday alone ever in my life. My dad came over and dropped off cake and presents for me, but it wasn’t the same. My mum is in a high risk group, so I couldn’t see her, only on video chat.

After that, everything changed. Shops closed, online delivery went through the roof, clapping on a Thursday night for our healthcare workers, staying two meters apart from each other.

I am already on meds for my OCD and depression, so I was lucky in a way that I got help before hand. Unlike some. My support worker rings me once a week, see how I’m doing. I think I’m doing alright.

Now though, it has all worn off now. Everyday is the same. I see the same people in the street or going for my walk, having the same conversations with them doing the same thing every. F**king. Day.

At first, it was great fun because the weather was great! I went out, became an explorer in my own city and I have found some rather beautiful sights.

Now though when I walk those same paths, it feels like I’ve walked it all my life and yet, I find the small things, like seeing ducklings along the river gives me great pleasure.

No one also told me, how quiet the world is. I live in usually a busy street, and that first month in lockdown I enjoyed. I could smell how fresh the air was, how the city smelled after the rain.

Yet, it was also eerie. It was like sometimes, I felt like the only person on the planet and that…. Didn’t worry me as much as I thought it would. Sometimes, I wished it was true, like some kind of weird f**king, quiet post apocalypse or something, but without zombies.

There are never any zombies.

There was just polite queuing, watching toilet rolls disappear as people went mad and the endless… F**king… Queuing.

Other than missing my family and friends in hugging them… I can’t really say I’ve missed anything else to be honest.

I have Netflix.

 

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