In the second week of March, the Covid-19 pandemic began to influence my life more than I ever thought it would. This post is a reflection on the changes March has brought upon us, inspired by conversations I have had with friends, postings of people I follow online, and the song "Dear April" by Frank Ocean. In order to resonate, I recommend listening to the song while reading these words. Times are changing, remember to stay loving and kind. I wish you the best, despite everything. 

Dear March,

I haven´t left my house in weeks and I wish I had a reason, somewhat of a backstory or something more poetic, with a tang of bitterness or resentment, or even sadness, but the only reason I have is the pandemic.

The World Health Organization declared the virus to be a pandemic too late and it caused destruction and it caused anger most of all. But the anger appeared only when the people found somebody to blame and it leaves me wondering if there can ever be anger without blame.

Dear March, are you reading this? You felt safe for a while. You took two strangers and you put them through and now all there is left to do is hope that it can make me new.

Some people have the habit of making promises they could never keep. They are the dangerous kind. I know the story but everybody knows the ending. The tree outside my window is fully decked in green leaves and I remind myself to notice the change next year because March distracted me and I have missed it again.

In a season where history is made and time seems to drag on forever, couldn´t he have given her more than a month?

We buy box dye and apply it to a single strand of hair because we have unlearnt to commit to even the simplest of things and wake up the next morning unchanged because bleach does not change the way we feel, but only the way we look.

I have watched countless girls cry in neon lights and it is both repetitive and soothing because at least I am not the only one who knows healing only as destruction.

March taught me that a yearning for more time will either be accepted or postponed, and there is nothing we can do to fight it.

Dear March,

You made us new. You took us through. You woke us up.

You were safe for a while.

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