here it comes, I donnot know how to attach a file here.
When I first moved out from Brazil to Portugal in 2018, as every young person that moves out of their parents house, I was thinking that the 21 year old me was ready for anything.I knew some unplanned things might happen along the way, but it didn’t matter, I was ready.
When time passed I began to realise that I’m not as mature as I thought. That I’m not ready for everything as I thought and as everyone else, I'm not invincible. And some times, as most people that live far away from their families, I grave home and that sense of security that invades me when I go back.
I wasn’t planning on living a pandemic when I moved out. No one was. The first few months were okay, I felt bored most of the time, afraid for my family back in Brazil. But it was manageable. However, I moved out again. I packed all my things and moved to Prague thinking that everything was going to be the same as it was back in my small town in Portugal. But it wasn’t. Things started to escalate quickly, new restrictions, new rules, new cases. The cases kept growing around me and I started thinking “ I’m going to be the next one of my friends to get it”. And it happened. I eventually tested positive for coronavirus. But as the now 23 year old me I thought “ I’m young, I can handle it.” as most of us young people do. But as the days passed I started to cough, to have pain all over my body, to feel so tired and weak I couldn't stay awake for that many hours... I Felt like I underestimated what could happen to my young body and mind.
I remember laying down in my bed thinking “am I dying?” I could feel my chest inflating but still felt like the air was missing from inside of me. That feeling of I don’t have enough air was maddening. I remember laying down in my bed with closed fists, breathing hard trying to convince myself that it was just my anxiety. But “what if?” What if it was not? “What if I am part of the small number of young people that have it really bad?”. People actually die from this, you can see and hear that every day on the news. And when all this “what if thoughts” stopped popping in my mind and it was silent, I felt it again. Again my body remembered me that I didn't have enough air, or I thought I didn’t’. It felt like a never ending cycle of madding thoughts that ended with me falling asleep, tired of the metal work. Tired from the disease. Missing that sense of security that invades me when I go back home.
When I first moved out from Brazil to Portugal in 2018, as every young person that moves out of their parents house, I was thinking that the 21 year old me was ready for anything.I knew some unplanned things might happen along the way, but it didn’t matter, I was ready.
When time passed I began to realise that I’m not as mature as I thought. That I’m not ready for everything as I thought and as everyone else, I'm not invincible. And some times, as most people that live far away from their families, I grave home and that sense of security that invades me when I go back.
I wasn’t planning on living a pandemic when I moved out. No one was. The first few months were okay, I felt bored most of the time, afraid for my family back in Brazil. But it was manageable. However, I moved out again. I packed all my things and moved to Prague thinking that everything was going to be the same as it was back in my small town in Portugal. But it wasn’t. Things started to escalate quickly, new restrictions, new rules, new cases. The cases kept growing around me and I started thinking “ I’m going to be the next one of my friends to get it”. And it happened. I eventually tested positive for coronavirus. But as the now 23 year old me I thought “ I’m young, I can handle it.” as most of us young people do. But as the days passed I started to cough, to have pain all over my body, to feel so tired and weak I couldn't stay awake for that many hours... I Felt like I underestimated what could happen to my young body and mind.
I remember laying down in my bed thinking “am I dying?” I could feel my chest inflating but still felt like the air was missing from inside of me. That feeling of I don’t have enough air was maddening. I remember laying down in my bed with closed fists, breathing hard trying to convince myself that it was just my anxiety. But “what if?” What if it was not? “What if I am part of the small number of young people that have it really bad?”. People actually die from this, you can see and hear that every day on the news. And when all this “what if thoughts” stopped popping in my mind and it was silent, I felt it again. Again my body remembered me that I didn't have enough air, or I thought I didn’t’. It felt like a never ending cycle of madding thoughts that ended with me falling asleep, tired of the metal work. Tired from the disease. Missing that sense of security that invades me when I go back home.