_Each day there is a continued dying of the light.  The news only grows more depressing.  Stories of heroics no longer provide a salve for the pain, for the fear.  Alone I sit in my home craving touch and laughter, craving connection and purpose.  Has life only become surviving until the next day?  What purpose has life without hands to hold and shoulders to hug?  What purpose has life without dinner with friends and birthdays with family?  Open mouthed I sit as images of pain and hurt pass by on my screen. 
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What has happened to humanity?  What has happened to my humanity?  Fragile creatures that we are we are now each day reminded of that frailty with the force of a gale.  Each day I hope my throat doesn't get a tickle, hope my next breath is easy, and I stay in my prison.  Waiting, waiting, waiting for the world to return to its axis I search for meaning.  I take to social media.  I argue politics and place blame.  I do anything to let me know I am alive and this is not a dream.  
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Slipping away are dreams of what to do on Friday.  Friday is now Tuesday and Tuesday is now Sunday and Sunday is now Thursday.  What is in the name or date of a day.  It only marks the passage of time and sequester.  It no longer guides us as it once did not so long ago.  Monday's used to be a return to work.  Wednesday was hump day that we struggled to reach and Fridays were the time to know it was almost over.  Saturdays and Sundays never seemed enough to do all we wanted to do.  
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Now with infinite time my laundry sits.  Meat defrosted begs to be cooked.  A look in the mirror reveals I would impress no one.  The bed goes unmade.  Sure a routine would probably help, but in doing the routine I realize the absurdity of it all.  No visitors to greet, no one to impress, only OCD to feed is their purpose now.  Isolated, that is the word for which my mind was searching.  Phone calls are never long enough, chats don't fill me.  They were always the appetizer or dessert to an otherwise full and normal life.  I cannot live off of appetizers and desserts.  I crave a full meal.  But at this time what good is craving?
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Tomorrow has become another sunrise.  And then again and again and again another tomorrow rises up almost to taunt us as I live in a trance.  I was always told to appreciate each day, to live in the moment.  So far I have not found that purpose or passion.  Do I write?  Do I sing unheard?  Do I watch the suffering of others only to fear that fate does not come to me?  Do I sleep and sleep again?  Do I eat trash from the cabinets again before I gain the never to stare again at the defrosted meat?  What to do?
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I do know one thing now and it burns inside of me.  If given a chance in the far future to say yes to a dinner invitation I will take it.  When asked if I might be able to stop by someone's party I will say yes, not maybe.  When someone dies that I knew once I will be at their wake, not as much to celebrate a life, selfishly, but to connect with the living.  Always preferring an introverted from of solitude always suited me best.  What I have learned is that I always had a choice.  Gone is the choosing.  Gone is the retreating.  We are now surviving.  I am now surviving. 
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Tomorrow for me is that day I can walk outside and again shake someone's hand.  Tomorrow is the day I can lean on my car and talk to a co-worker before driving home.  Tomorrow is when I can stop in a store and not fear the air that I breath or the product I touch. Tomorrow will be a great day.  Tomorrow will be an awesome day.  I only hope I will live to see tomorrow.<br>_