This isn’t really part of the coronavirus series, or maybe only a loose extra chapter.

A while ago, news was arriving so fast every day that it felt impossible to keep up. Things have settled down somewhat now, though maybe that only means something deeper is moving underneath.

I’ve started to feel... angry.

Loneliness has always been a problem for me. For a long time, I’ve relied on all kinds of ways to let it out, to redirect it, to keep it from swallowing me whole.

Since the outbreak began, the cinemas have closed, and I haven’t been able to watch films. I miss that feeling of being able to hide away in the dark, to sit there among strangers, and feel for the people on the screen who have nothing to do with my own life.

Restaurants and takeout have opened up again, but I still don’t really dare to eat without thinking. The grilled fish I had last weekend was basically my first proper meat meal in three weeks.

And for protection, or perhaps just out of respect for other people, I now have to wear a mask as well. Leaving aside how long the mask I have can possibly last, the tight marks on my ears and nose are already bothering me enough.

On top of that, there’s the possibility of reduced income, and the spring outing I had planned has already been cancelled.

Sometimes I can really feel a fire burning through whatever reason I have left.

I had almost beaten the black lion, after so much effort. And now it feels like the black lion is trying to rise again in the middle of the plague.

The anger is getting harder and harder to control.

Even a small prank can set me off and leave me boiling with rage (the YY incident).

I don’t know how much longer this is going to go on. Some people say we’ll be safe in less than a month.

And after that?

Will there be famine? Will this become a routine illness? Will an economic crisis follow?

I can’t believe them anymore.

Or maybe I never trusted them in the first place.