.png)
.png)
10 Day Isolation - Memoir
10 days of isolation – memoir typed the boy on top of the page, and counting…
Day 1. Fresh mind with leftovers from the human relations tended to while living back home. Boredom has not yet arrived. Anticipation and worry are just bringing their baggage into the house; the boy hasn’t had a chance to hear their moans just yet. Sitting down on the sofa in his flat, he looked around the space, in which he was to spend the next ten or more days, while the rules and regulations of the pandemic craze had to be dealt with. Home sweet home…
*
Day 2. Plenty of things to do, unpacking included, means that there is not much space for thinking. Boredom just announced its flight being postponed, but she should be with the group in the next twelve, maybe twenty hours. The boy organized his room and cleaned what had to be clean; he feels okay. Today the ever-late irritation arrived, finding herself a room on the second floor – each time the music or the pipes of the other flat are too loud, the subject of its presence is raised. We don’t choose our families the boy reminded himself, when one of the guests spilled the tea across the desk, only eight days left…
*
Day 3. Mom used to say the third day is the most difficult one he reflected. Boredom made a scene, entering in the early hours of the morning. The living room is pretty much full at this point, anticipation, and worry are asleep for many hours, but they still take up space. Irritation seems to like boredom because they hang out more and more. The boy doesn’t like either of them, so whenever they go upstairs, at least he has time to relax. His goal of the day was to organize the plan for the next week or so, which went well… Well, maybe well is a little overstatement, it went okay… In other words, it went. He didn’t do much of it to be fair. Only boring people are bored he recollected a statement heard somewhere sometime, what a bunch of crap…
*
Day 4. Today the arguments between the guests became horrid to listen to. The boy had to take some time off, putting on his headphones, and letting the maniacs scream at each other without his presence. Listening to music can relieve tension he wrote in his notebook, observant of the situation. There was Sun outside, knocking on his window, but he was listening to music and others were fighting, so no one opened it. Lack of social interactions started to get to the boy, he talked to himself when taking a shower. Who doesn’t he reasoned.
*
Day 5. We’re halfway there screamed the boy, hanging off the wardrobe’s shelf. The discussions were over, boredom moved out upstairs; with irritation and some random bird from across the roof, they organize parties all the time. The boy was left alone today, as anticipation and worry decided to go back to the city, not for us, they claimed, you got to understand… There is not much left in the fridge and the boy starts to suspect who’s been eating his jam. He had a phone call with his brother today, nothing special – just life… Their conversation was pleasant, especially for the boy and his troubled by isolation mind. Halfway there he recited falling asleep, halfway there to madness…
*
Day 6. The boy couldn’t wake up today. There was plenty of bad dreams stumbling across his mind and he didn’t feel like addressing any of them. Parties upstairs died down, maybe they just moved out, he wondered. There was no doubt that loneliness was by the door, which was surprising, as the boy expected her to arrive much earlier, I guess the bus had a delay… Knocking to the entrance was loud enough to be hearable and quiet enough to be bearable. The boy didn’t want to open just yet. He didn’t like her. I feel lonely enough as it is he pointed out, pressing his face against the door, go away! But she didn’t want to leave. Misery likes company the voice from behind the wooden surface claimed, didn’t you hear about that…?
*
Day 7. Loneliness managed to squeeze into the flat, while the boy was asleep. I bet boredom and irritation helped her he hissed making himself a cup of morning coffee. There was no more food in the fridge, neither in the cupboard. There was no more. The living room was messy, after the many hours of nothingness. The void inside the boy’s heart and mind seemed to grow in relation to the time spent inside, alone. As little as he knew about mathematics, he started coming up with a function, which would present the idea. He did that, out of boredom. He concluded that his level of tiredness, loneliness, and boredom, grows equally to the time spent stuck inside the four walls. There is no function of this isolation, but this constant linear, which grows with each minute spent inside he claimed sketching a big graph across the room’s wall.
*
Day 8. There was no more food neither coffee, which enraged the boy. Walking across the room, there and back, he hissed, squeaked, moaned, and growled. His guests moved out quickly, only irritation decided to show up and join his little circus. He felt like the books are smiling at him, chuckling behind his back. He thought that the Sun is knocking on the window, knowing his isolation sentence, only to annoy him. He thought that the work he was supposed to do was purposefully relegated from him, making the boring separation feel bigger than ever. The day was spent without purpose, without pleasure, just without. Loneliness oh Loneliness, why are you Loneliness the boy paraphrased Shakespeare while squatting on top of the fridge and staring at the crumpled piece of paper with the to-do list scribbled onto itself.
*
Day 9. The boy washed his face and even took a shower, which did not involve self-talk. He tried to calm the restless mind, which at this point could have been taken as a separate entity. The chuckling of randomness didn’t seem to end. He looked through the cupboards, shelves, drawers, pockets, boxes, packets, pots, and bags trying to find something he lost, but the quest appeared to be impossible, since he was not sure what would that thing be. His chin was covered with careless stubble, his voice dusted with the layers of apprehension, his mind clouded by the mist of separation. He wondered to what extent does one appears sane, when looked at by another, and considered through their own, subjective – insane, lens. We’re almost there he smiled patting the shoulder of his loyal companion – the laptop, on which he would write out his thoughts.
*
Day 10. There was no more anticipation, no more drama, no more boredom. There was nothing more. The day was, as it had to be. The boy was quiet, as he tends to be, whenever the prolonged isolation ties a knot of shyness across his neck. His flatmates moved out, most likely decided to nag someone else he thought. The weather outside signalled its impatience to see the boy out there, enjoying the sun, the breeze, the air. He couldn’t wait to get out, but he also realized there will be some social re-learning he had to address. Like a wildling coming back to civilization, I am coming back to the relationships with others he recited scribbling in his notebook, and it is all right…
Also check out my new book on Amazon:
*art by Katarzyna Druszcz
#prose #creativewriting #isolation #creativeflow #methodinmadness #foodforthought