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Max Antonucci

Journalist turned full-time coder, part-time ponderer.

June 18, 2020

My apartment protects and suffocates me.

My mask protects my face and mutes my self-expression.

The isolation keeps me safe physically but frail mentally.

My distance keeps away vulnerable people and our shared humanity.

My hand-washing cleanses me of germs and washes away my self-assurances.

My television numbs the spiraling thoughts and the comforts of my daydreams.

More and more I want to scream. More and more my hand touches a pen and freezes.

More and more my anxieties creep from the corners. More and more they tower over me.

More and more I see the damages tear at me. More and more I see them hurt me a tad less.

More and more I see my anxieties in a harsh, new light. More and more I see the light illuminating the paths around them, even by only a few steps.