The Simpsons have predicted a lot of things – but did they predict Covid-19?
Perhaps they did, but their theory wasn’t scientifically possible, as the virus was transported via a packed juice maker that took a month to ship – and it ended with killer bees. So I guess it’s kind of believing that it wasn’t true (or is it?).
But that doesn’t affect the magnitude of this global pandemic.
When we first heard about Covid-19, we were in the middle of a transgression from 2019 to 2020.
Ah, 2020, a year that we thought would be a good luck charm for us all.
What a joke!
I remember coming home from school, showering, and then eating dinner. The sun was setting, and I was exhausted. My mum passed me her phone. A page on a news article was opened.
“Did you hear about what happened in Wuhan?”
Days came and went. Quizzes and revision came and went. Exams came but didn’t go on. The sun set quickly every day except for that one day. It seemed to hover over us, mocking us.
I felt the heat on my back as I headed back to the car. Perspiration dribbled down my face, hidden by a blue fabric we were wearing – as blue as the sea.
Everyone knew now, and everyone was scared.
The orange light sparkled off the metal backs of cars. The sun was setting on the last day that I would be out, the last day for a long time.
Maybe for us, it was like a prison. Perhaps for them, it was like a rope leash, tight and scrappy.
I became a teenager in 2020.
Before, I had big plans. I still feel the same. If I had known, I wouldn’t have wasted my time on it. Planning, that is.
If you were not directly affected by the virus, if you had yet to wear the pink handcuff, it’s not that obvious. It just feels like you’re under house arrest, the food consumption increases, and a new supply of food is sent to your house every week.
During this period, panic also skyrocketed. Sanitisers, tissues, gloves and masks were almost non-existent on supermarket shelves. Whichever lucky seller who still had some in their back pocket could hike up the price to yonder and beyond.
School, of course, wouldn’t be off the grid for long, as online school started. White screens – tired ears, sore fingers, rapid typing. School revolved around Google Classroom and Zoom and nothing more.
The long drive home didn’t exist anymore. The late nights and early mornings spared. I felt at home, at home. The school campus wasn’t a particularly inviting second home.
On and off. Open and close. Days and weeks jumbled, merging into a stiff clump of time. It was only to be lightly sliced with cycling outside, talking, with some people, but that too eventually died down.
I did go to school again, sometime in September. But it wasn’t significant as it didn’t last for long.
We did go to Legoland in December, and it was a nice break.
As the clock clumped again, a new year came around. Yet, it didn’t really seem like it.
Everyone always asks: What would it have been without Covid-19? But why ask?
You’ll never know, and you can never give a good guess.
Some things are meant to happen. Each year isn’t the same as the next.
Some things are best to be left alone and not to be thought about.
This is the personal opinion of the writer and does not necessarily represent the views of Twentytwo13.
To give the younger generation an avenue to express themselves, Twentytwo13 now has a dedicated space called Young Voices. If you are a young writer (aged between 12 and 17) and would like to have your article published on our news website, send your contribution to email@example.com.
All articles must be accompanied by the young writer’s full name, MyKad number, contact number, and the mobile number of the young writer’s parents/guardians for verification purposes.