Dear 2021,
I hope you have sanitised yourself well.
After spending most of the previous 365 days in my room, I have learnt more about myself than I ever did in two decades. And I have a confession to make. I might be secretly addicted to isolation. But that doesn’t make me veer away from living my summer dreams in flowy tie-dye dresses, flip flops, cane picnic baskets and neon-coloured facemasks (yes, I promise to always be responsible). From you, I had hopes. But now, I have found myself switching sunscreen tubes for copious amounts of sanitisers yet again.
I write to you to remind you of the serious pressure that you are under. Beginnings can be tough, but there’s potential to change. And you, my friend, have the responsibility to change the tide.
I do not want to grow up and tell my kids about you; let’s keep the COVID memories for 2020. If you’re here again to remind me of the lessons your predecessor taught me, then I don’t want to learn them again. I’ve learnt how loved ones help you when you need them the most, how friends check up on you in your silence. It’s YOUR time now. Don’t be like that one past lover who is never mentioned again to any breathing soul.
Why can’t you let me finally put on my floral dress, bright red lip and cheek tint and allow me to lay under the sun? I do not want another year of lockdown babies, e-engagements and Zoom weddings, civil unrest and videos of people buying 50 packets of tissue papers. Neither do I want another series of months of introspection. All I want is to put on my shoes and my mask and head out without checking twice if I am carrying a sanitiser with more than 75% alcohol.
While you may remind me of a year whose name shall not be taken, I know one fact for sure, I will not whip up dalgona coffee, bake banana bread or worse, partake in nonsensical internet trends. I’ll be right here waiting for you to clean up your act and behave.
With hope,
All of us
Photographs: Unsplash
