To The Months We Wish Didn't Happen

The past few months for me, as for many of us in Hong Kong, has been a blur. At school, we awoke not to the lively morning routine of our roommates marching off to class, but to a resented chime of our alarms at 8:28am, rolling off bed to click on zoom. The corridors were quiet. The canteen was cleared - tables of boisterous teenagers replaced with signs of social distancing, neon yellow lines for the queue. Yes, we were distanced, not just by the ban of hugs, but by an environment of pressure. We met an average of three people a day, stealing a minute or two of human interaction to feel somewhat alive.

The world we knew erupted into chaos, but we were sheltered in our rooms, wrapped in two hoodies and binging Bridgerton. The daily update of confirmed COIVD cases became mere numbers, but numbers that bounded us. Sometimes, we found escape from a rare afternoon of sun at the beach (which soon was banned,) or a morning of journaling on the rooftop. We learned to be comfortable with ourselves, with being alone, though that's the opposite of the reason that drew us here. Adventures to Mongkok and Lamma Island became distant fantasies. The bustling city was reduced to our little neighborhood, or as far as one stop of public transportation could take us.

Our days, weeks, and months merged into one lazy Sunday afternoon. We grew numb to restrictions;

printed warnings becoming the standard decor. The sky grew grayer, the days grew longer, but in a way, we grew stronger.

We realized, with a slight sense of regret, how precious little things in life are. To walk to school, to have a meal with a friend, to flip into a pool, to collapse into our covers at night feeling fulfilled.

We're part of a generation that grew up in the pandemic. Our teenage years, supposedly the most vibrant and careless, never without a reminder that we were living a in a global catastrophe.

As our classrooms were transformed overnight into makeshift isolation wards, chairs replaced with mattresses toiled from dorms, it became clear that our experience here would never be the same. We came with hearts full of wanderlust but in reality, the adventure had always been within ourselves. We had so much to learn when the world paused, our routine shifted, and our perspective changed. It took a push for us to get there, but hey, we made it, right?

To that months that we dreaded, we complained, we resented, and now, we oddly miss; the months that COIVD wrecked our city and confined us whole, thank you.

Thank you for forcing us to appreciate the people and moments we took for granted. While all of us at some point had ranted, "We didn't sign up for this," it is precisely this experience that makes the rest of it so invaluable, and the people we braved through it with, so irreplaceable.

What else could we ask for?