I Belong in Lockdown

Food shopping is not the triumph I thought it would be.

I hadn’t been in a supermarket for almost two years. Colours, beeping, clothes, trolleys, people, lighting, rattling, it was all too overwhelming and I severely overestimated my ability to walk. Why don't supermarkets have benches? Why is everything so bright? Why is nobody wearing masks? Feeling sick with a subluxed foot, I return home with only half my (very short) shopping list crossed off. 

Big red letters line the path every time that I leave the house: ‘you are not welcome in this world!’

I lament to my mother that I belong in lockdown.

I sob to my boyfriend that I make everything worse.

I spiral down and down, with the thoughts of my friends moving on with life and leaving me behind. 

Internalised ableism wasn't as loud in lockdown.