In 2024, it’s strange to look back at corona and realise how dystopian it all felt.
Not in a dramatic, movie like way, but in a quiet, unsettling one. Empty streets. Daily death counts. Rules changing overnight. Life reduced to press conferences and notifications. It still doesn’t feel that long ago.
I remember watching YouTube vlogs about an Irish teacher living in Wuhan, long before it supposedly hit the UK. At the time, it felt distant. Almost unreal. Like something happening on another planet. I remember thinking how surreal it looked, cities shut down, people masked, routines erased. None of us really believed it would reach us in the same way.
And then it did.
We all know we locked down far too late. By the time it became real, it was already everywhere. Suddenly the world felt paused, but also constantly on edge. Time moved strangely. Days blurred together, yet the fear felt sharp and constant.
What makes it feel especially dystopian looking back is how quickly we adapted. How normal the abnormal became. Standing two metres apart. Watching loved ones through screens. Accepting that weddings, funerals, birthdays, and goodbyes could be postponed indefinitely.
We were living through history without fully realising it.
In 2024, life looks busy again. Loud again. Full again. But there’s still a part of me that remembers how fragile everything felt. How quickly certainty disappeared. How the world we trusted could shut down overnight.
It wasn’t just a pandemic. It was a collective loss of innocence. A reminder that structure, routine, and safety are never guaranteed.
And even though it feels like yesterday, it already belongs to another version of us.
No comments
Post a Comment