Medium: Super Psycho Death Virus Redux Again Once More…
We wear masks to hide ourselves. I, Dalton Lewis, have a mask. It covers who I really am: a writer, a creator of ideas, a spinner of tales, a teller of truths. My mask covers my face and my mouth, preventing others from seeing the real me, the terrifying truth of who I am: a mentally ill man in America.
I am fat and middle-aged and at risk to die from the super-psycho death virus known as Covid-19. I have worked like crazy on the exercise bike, almost every day, for months, and I’ve only lost ten pounds. Fat people die from the coronavirus. I’m one of those fat people — I might die.
My mask also has a literal function: it protects me from said super psycho death virus that has killed about 800,000 Americans. That’s a gross number of people. That’s way, way too many. Hundreds of thousands of Americans killed? Terrible. Especially older people? Terrible. These elderly Americans are old and frail and are being victimized by this Covid-19. These overweight people gained weight because big business sells us sugary foods and sweets that taste delicious for cheap — donuts, burgers, candy — and doesn’t teach us how to work out and eat in moderation. Then we get fat and die from a virus. Terrible.
Do vaccines work? They help, I think. I really do. One of every 100 old people have died to this virus. That’s unacceptable. We aren’t supposed to be losing to this, people. We have a great new president who is supposed to have this under control. I wanted him to unseat the last guy because the last guy seemed crazy, unhinged, and unable to make the sane, rational decisions. Instead the new guy seems unable to curb this. He can’t convince everyone to get vaccinated. He can’t convince everyone to wear masks. Those seem to be the two things necessary to stop this, and he can’t get us to do them.
I sat in my home, not leaving, for a year or so to prevent my death at the hands of this virus. I don’t want to die from it now — now that I have the vaccine and the booster shot and my mask to protect me from everyone else.
My parents are elderly and stayed inside for a year too. Then they got vaccinated and went back to their lives. My dad teaches tennis part-time and is partially retired. My mom, meanwhile, has gone back to volunteering at the local historical society. They are back at their normal lives. We wear our masks when we go outside and see the scary, scary outside world.
I went to a wargaming tournament this weekend. Everyone wore masks while we were inside of the venue, packed in with a lot of our fellow geeks. We cheated a little and drank soda during the games. Is that bad? I don’t know but we did it anyway. I don’t think that will get us killed. Will it? I don’t know.
Isn’t this our natural state? Wearing masks to protect each other from each other? Isn’t this who we are, hiding our true natures from the other people that are different from us? We are scared of each other and our germs. We are afraid of who the other people actually are. We are afraid of each other. We are afraid.
We are depressed, too. Depression hits when things seem helpless, and this seems helpless. We can’t do much but wear our masks and protect ourselves from going to huge events unless we are confident in our vaccines and our booster shots. Life is difficult and dangerous. It feels like we used to life in a safe little bubble, and then reality hit. Covid-19 hit.
I have depth. I have so much to me. I have emotions, simmering below the surface. So do all my fellow geeks — but we play strategy games, talk about strategy games, and we don’t acknowledge such problems. We don’t understand all the emotions that we keep below. I can only hope that somehow, someone can see past the mask, and understand who I truly am: a wonderful, innocent writer, and a mentally-ill man in America.
Thanks, and take care, friends.