2 years following the covid-19 lockdown, 16 year old Isabel De La Cruz feels fumbled and overwhelmed about school re-opening again. Sure, she might be attending Hollywood Performing Arts High, which is a dream come true, but daily encounters with he...
2 months. That's how long it's been. It seems as our teachers intellectual predictions of lockdown's longevity were proven false by the CDC. We continue to stay cooped up in our houses and strictly advised to not leave, unless it's ultimately evidently necessary to flee
There's hardly been any progress in the pandemic. In fact, the condition of covid has only worsened. Everyone, including myself, frantically panic!- but it's not at the disco.
Lousy pun... I know, but this is what Quarantine has lead to. With lavished free time ventured on my hands, I've ultimately rationalized that I'm too weird to live, too rare to die. If I wasn't, I would've contracted covid by now. Right?...
Another 2 months from now is my 14th birthday. I wish I could be as elated as I partially once was, before the pandemic hit... but how can I be? That's nearly impossible during these lavished circumstances no one dares to embrace, yet petulantly forced to anyways.
It's not like I can primarily throw the party I had initially planned to, and it bums me out.
Not that I really had many friends to invite anyways. It would've just been Harry, Angel, Ashley, Corey and my sister, Camilla. Maybe Angel's girlfriend Sophie Chen, and possibly Harry's brother, Max Goldwyn. Really though, it'd be nothing like Inez's 14th birthday, which was held back in January.
I don't mean to neglectly come off as ungrateful, I would've been fine with just my friends. It's just Inez is that cool, popular girl back at school, and I know I claim to not give a shit about 21st century girls like her. Deep down though, I'm a fucking phony and I really do care- an unhealthy amount, may I add.
( A/N: Helpppp, it sounds like she said 'fucking phony' like MY LITTLE PONY LMAO... 'my little phony'?? ah, sorry hasbro-)
July will be a cruel summer indeed. I love Harry, and I bet that'd be the worst thing he'll ever hear. I'd scream my lungs out all the way to England if I could, but logically that's merely impossible. These days, message in a bottle is all I can do- and I don't mean literal love letters sent and delivered to London ofcourse. I mean daily text messages of sweet nothings to lighten up the tense mood. It's the least I can do, right?
We talk about the future, like we have any clue what's in the stock of years to come. I babble on about my highest hopes of making it as a singer- songwriter, just like my queens Taylor Swift and Ariana Grande.
Harry however seems almost unwilling to look forward to post-pandemic life. He argues that the worst will never come to an end, and only fatal doom is to interfere. What befuddles me is his pessimistic attitude towards the future. He talks about post-pandemic life as if he he won't be around to witness it, which genuinely worries me. This wasn't the Harry I once knew.... still though, I love him unconditionally despite his depression. I'll be his summer sun forever.
What isn't either is the distance and time between Harry and I, and it's taken a vast toll on me. Nevertheless, it'll never change my mind. It's astronomy; we're two worlds apart. These days, message in a bottle is all I can do- and by that I mean, altering my sleep schedule in order to be able to chat on a daily basis.
Gazing from face time on my phone, feeling like a face in the crowd. I'm reaching for Harry's full attention, utterly terrified. Lately, he's been a bit distant and consumed by fear.
I know he likes me, but it's kind of frightening, just standing here waiting for Harry to vulnerably open up and communicate the thoughts that he holds.
" So, how is it in London? " I begun to converse in my typical peppy manner.
" Same as usual. " He lightly muttered, barely distinct to hear.
" Harry, if you want to talk about it-"
" No, I don't. Not really. "
" So then, what do you want to talk about? " I dumbfoundly inquired.
" Actually, online classes are starting right now. Sorry. "
" Seriously? " I pouted.
Before I could blurt another word- or syllable, by all matters, Harry had already hung up.
Deep down, I feared that I'll never see him again. I'm aware that it's predominantly self-inflicted to rely on Harry as my source of happiness rather than fret upon his mental state. Trust me, I worry plenty about how his depression has worsened this past month. I'm an asshole outlaw, I get it.
Harry's POV:
( A/N: I almost wrote 'Harry's House', help 😭😭 I'm not even sorry, nights are so sorry. Blood-moon lit )
I do comprehend Isabel's eagerness towards our newly formed romantic relationship, but I can't help but to become flustered with this entire pandemic situation. For Christ's sake, what if my Father contracts covid?
Afterall, we're living in a world where no ones innocent- a world where we live our truth, not bottled in. Tears of misery pour down the brim of my mother's eyes every single night while Aunt Louisa drinks her pain away.
Being the valiant and selfless man he is, he ultimately decided to stay in California and continue to care for his patients. Just the unbearable thought that Covid is capable of spiraling anyone out of their league, including good men like my Dad.
Listen, I like Isabel and spent months pining for her, but the present only coaxes as 'right person, wrong timing'. Due to this, I'm unsure of whether to break off our relationship temporarily.
Mentally, my health only seems to worsen and what goes in my mind is dark- just like the world that we're currently revolving around. It all exacerbates as too much, constantly tantalizes me. The last thing that I'd want is to burden Isabel with my tainted bullshit.
" I know it's hard for you, but it's not fair going sick in my head trying to get you there. "Isabel pleaded for me to open up about what lies at the the back of my mind. " Can't you cry and confide, at least be kind to the one that you love? "
" Love? Isabel, I... "
She looked up with the widest eyes of dim concern. " Harry, what is it? "
" I can't anymore. I'm sorry... "I proceeded to shut off my phone completely, fully aware of the immense mess I'm causing. I really can't help myself...
In Taylor Swift's very own words, when you're young, you just run, but you come back to what you need.
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A U T H O R' S N O T E:
tysm if you're still reading this book lol, i'm so exhausted rn so i don't have much to say except i'm also currently working on a new book called " when emma falls in love " inspired by taylor's song by the same name + Heather by conan gray
BACK TO THIS BOOK, there'll be some *dun dun* drama next chapter, so brew your tea for next week 🤣🤣 ( i'm well aware that sounded cringy af, i don't care )
