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Wednesday 12 May 2021

Diary of a quarantine The value of time

The value of time

Author of the content

Di Diletta Fioretti

In a succession of days that are all the same, gray and monotonous, time seems to have waned; if I think of the last time I went out, that I saw my friends, it seems like an eternity yesterday and at the same time. In all these infinitely long and deeply oppressive days, there are some that seem heavier than tall. It is in these days that I feel the need to cling to memories and good intentions. I have few good intentions, I know that in the end I would not keep them, plus thinking about the things I would like to do makes me feel stronger than ever the claustrophobia and the discomfort. This is why I try to cling to the memories and even more to the emotions that those memories arouse; it is precisely the apathy of this condition of ours that worries me the most. If Panta rei and if everything really flows, things will get better sooner or later, the problems will be solved and we will return to our former life.

Life as before is something I am often thinking about: the comfort that the routine gave me from which I tried in every way to escape.
The outlines of the drama we are experiencing therefore lead me to re-evaluate the things that I gave little importance to before, like having a coffee at the bar with a friend or taking the bus every day to go home after school. These are things that I previously found barely bearable and that I now miss unbearably.
In moments of despair, I force myself to think about what I will do once all these heavy and yet so necessary prohibitions are lifted. But only the things that I wanted to do and that I did not have come to mind, all the missed experiences, the opportunities that I wasted, and I swear to myself that when we go out it will be different, that I will be able to seize the moment, to don't leave anything to chance, don't miss anything.

I found myself craving things I previously avoided. I've never been a very expansive person, but despite this, during these long and all the same days, I find myself wanting those gestures of affection that I found so annoying.
I think with regret of the hugs that I have not given, of the hands that I have not squeezed, of the smiles that I have pretended, of the times when I wanted to scream my disappointment and I was silent, when I wanted to do something but fear stopped me. If I could make a wish for when we go out - even if more than a wish what I do is a wish - I would like that fear that often grips me to disappear, I would like to find myself free, that I am no longer afraid of anything and finally feel free from those chains that often prevent me from living as I wish.

If it is true that every experience shapes us and makes us grow, it is in this sense that I want to mature: once I have gone on, I would not be tempted to go back, not to let the dizziness that novelty entails frighten me more.
But will it really be so? Will I really be a new person once I walk out that door? Will I be able to see things in the right perspective?

This is what we are talking about, this is what quarantine is giving us: time to reflect on how we gave value to futile things by neglecting the things that would have deserved our time. Faced with this awareness, my hands are trembling: a global pandemic had to be served to make us understand that what we have we never wanted and that in truth we only wanted to do half the things we did.
I still don't know what I will do as soon as I leave the house, I only know that this is what I will take with me once I leave: the awareness that we are all time, and that by deciding who and what to give that time we define who we are.






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