Indefinite

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It began dramatically.  Indefinite closure of schools and cancellation of exams.  Johnson told us this would turn the tide and send the virus packing, now that I write this I can say: if only it had been so simple.  But only now can I write it.

It began slowly for me as what happened in schools did not affect me.  Not really.  My life carried on as it did, work, home, work, home.  It was a distraction when I was in work but when I was at home the day simply tick, tick, ticked by.  A quet kind of numb.  My life was empty and I was not confident it would ever be full.  My son had moved with his mother out west the summer before, a good time to move, she said, with him moving up to secondary school, and she had got him into an outstanding one out west.  Out west, I like the sound of that, like I was in a spaghetti western film.  The only truth was the sensible city my ex and son moved to was three hours drive west of where I live.  I mooched about in my flat a lot then, like something had actually left my life.  It hadn't.  We had been separated since my boy was two and I only saw him every second weekend.  Though sometimes I had shifts on my weekend.  And often it was just easier for his mum to take him to the party as she knew all the school mums.  Things had drifted.  Things always drift unless you fight against the flow.  And I hadn't fought, I had just gon with the flow.  And then they were gone, three hours away.  And suddenly I felt the force of all the accumulated little sadnesses I had ignored when working on my weekend, or not taking him to a party.  The accumulated little sadnessess hit me with a force that made me a near recluse in those six months before the pandemic.  I barely saw my girlfriend.  I stopped flirting with the woman I fancied at work.  Just get to the end fo the day and go home.  And draw.  #thedailysketch.  Usually about half way through drawing I would open my laptop and spend a little while selecting porn to watch.  See, about half way through drawing I would feel low, sadened my the thought that soon my evening would become a pointless mooch until I managed to sleep.  Even on days when I had a good book to read, days when my evening would not be pointless I still switched on the porn.  Masturbation is a habit.

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