When things got bad last spring, we at least had the cold comfort of knowing we were all in it together. While some communities were undoubtedly much harder hit than others, nobody in New York was fully exempt from the terror that the disease unleashed within the city, even if it was only the product of the constant scream of sirens outside our windows.
There’s no doubt that my personal mental health has improved tremendously since I got my second dose, but my sense of hope is still clenched in self-defense, waiting for some explainer or Twitter scold to tell me why it’sokay to feel even remotely better.
Ah you've said something just now. Having to deal with the misdirection of certainty would do me such injustice. Dear..
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