Life is not infinite: what lockdown is teaching me about myself and other people

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I visualise what is happening as a giant psychological experiment – and we won’t ever be the same as we once were

It is hard grappling with the senselessness of a pandemic, its lack of design. I have spent years mentally preparing for a civil war, but I never planned on this. This lethal, invisible, unpredictable … waste of everyone’s time. “All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone,” Blaise Pascal mused in the 17th century. He would be confounded by 2020, in which a lot of us are doing exactly that, and finding that it sucks. I forgive him, though. It is hard to stay mad at a Catholic mathematician whose name sounds like a burlesque dancer.

Locked down alone, I experience deep loneliness, of a claustrophobic and urgent nature. The kind of ungraspable panic that messaging and video calls and social media cannot touch, not knowing when I will next hug my mum, or experience affectionate physical contact, or punch my friend Amish Tom.

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* This article was originally published here
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