January 1, 2020
Dear Kyra,
“We used to be able to feel ourselves getting older, the self-awareness settling as we started walking the edge into adulthood and wondering when the years had suddenly gotten so short. It seems now though that time doesn’t even exist.”
These are the words I used to describe this past year in one of my favorite art projects yet, Nostalgia Effect. You don’t know now, but your entire world is about to change. In a few weeks’ time, spring break will soon become summer break and you’ll be spending the entire summer back at home without even getting the chance to say goodbye to your college friends.
That garage in the tiny place your parents rented while your real home is being rebuilt after some guy decided to drive drunk and plow through your house? You’ll be sharing that with your eighteen year old brother, and you’ll name it The Apocalypse Pantry because the only actual furniture in there will be two beds and a leaning tower of ramen and toilet paper, the latter being the rarest of goods in a global pandemic.
You’ll spend more time with your family than you have since sophomore year of high school, and you won’t be afraid to admit that the moments sitting on the floor of a halfway-finished house and eating Cook Out with your family are some of the best you’ve had. Tackling fifty hours a week rebuilding your family home after the workers stop coming because of the virus is going to be hard. Balancing online classes on top of that will be even harder.
You’ll have more time to write than you’ve ever had, and you’ll crank out a novel’s worth of work in just a few weeks like it’s nothing. You won’t go to sleep before 2 a.m. once between the months of May and August, and sketchbooks that have been empty for years will suddenly be so full you’ll find yourself drawing on the walls. You’ll finally get to play that brown piano in the corner of the room again.
You’ll tell yourself that you should be happy.
You’ll feel the most depressed, most confused, most alone you’ve ever been in your life, but that’s okay.
You’ve lived by the beach almost your entire life, but this summer is the first you’ll drive to the beach in the middle of a storm just to feel something again.
You estimate UNC will last a week before hell breaks loose and you’re fully online again, and it graciously delivers. Sitting in front of a video camera and painting for three hours, twice a week will never not be weird. Your motivation will disappear and you’ll hate yourself for how ‘lazy’ you are, but you’re going to do just fine.
You’ll gain a few pounds, and you might feel a little self-conscious about losing a workout routine you had worked so hard to build, but this body is the one getting you through a global pandemic, and you’re worthy of the same kindness you try to give others.
You might miss a ton of milestones, but you’ll get to go to that Duke game you’ve always wanted to see.
You’ll grow more in this year as a person than you have in all the previous years combined. A year of isolation will force you to finally look in that great and beautiful mind of yours and deal with all of its chaos. Your entire world, everything you thought you knew, will shatter, and you’ll be left to pick up the pieces, deconstructing and reconstructing your entire belief system.
Having doubts doesn’t make you unfaithful, it means you’re being pushed to grow.