My Dearest Catastrophic Thoughts,

Since the first day we met, C.T., you’ve ignited a burning flame inside of my heart, leaving me so stimulated I can’t eat, sleep, or think straight. Without you, I could’ve never survived this year.

Remember last Valentine’s Day? Instead of chocolate hearts or a candlelit dinner, we stockpiled N-95 masks, hand sanitizer, and two-ply toilet paper while tracking Covid-19 on an interactive map. I still get chills when I think about it. Everyone thought we were crazy. We weren’t crazy. We were crazy in love.

Or how about that day in April when I forget to wash the Cheetos bag? I fell into a fetal position, sobbed hysterically, and yelled, “I just ate a Covid Infected Cheeto, and now I’m going to die!” You cherished me regardless of what the EMT said. At that moment, I knew you were my soul mate.

One of my favorite memories of us was that all-nighter in May when we bonded over whether or not my purple toe was a deadly case of Covid or just a simple stub? It was you who stayed with me while I Googled “Is this the Covid toe?” and “How long do I have?” Thank God, the doc I saw prescribed me ice, elevation, and Xanax. Those Xanax Covid pills saved my life, even though every time I took one, I thought I didn’t need you anymore. I’m so grateful you reminded me that the virus messes with the mind. Imagine if I kept taking those pills like the doctor told me to? I might be without my you and my sweet kitty, Heebie Jeebies.

That’s right. It was you who came to Heebie Jeebies’ rescue and urged me to rush her to the vet right after Heebie Jeebies sneezed three times in a row. Then, after the emergency vet said she was fine, you were the one who convinced me to block the doorway in protest until the vet saved my poor feline from Covid. Thank God I did, or Heebie Jeebies would probably still be on oxygen or worse, in kitten heaven. Those miracle multi-vitamins the vet sent home worked wonders. I’m one lucky girl.

Yet like most relationships, it hasn’t always been smooth sailing for us. Like last August, I ran out of my house naked and screaming, “There’s a murder hornet in my shower!” The police showed up to do a wellness check, and that pesky bug turned out to be a simple Cicada shell. Yet, you stayed by my side even during therapy, when I cheated on you with meditation, mindfulness, and prayer. You’re so loyal, my love.

It didn’t take long for us to find each other again, C.T. We reunited over QAnon, Trump’s election tweets, and the capitol riots. No one makes my body tremble, my heart flutter, or my pores sweat like you do, C.T.

To be honest, though, I do worry about our future. There’s an eerie calmness that’s swept the nation since Trump left office, and the vaccines have proven to be effective. But, then, just the other night, the South African Covid variant popped up in the United States, and the passion between us sparked once again. I still hyperventilate when I think about it.

Thank you for changing my life, C.T. I will be yours forever and always, or as long as meditation doesn’t help me to find my center again. Those body scans—wow.

Love always and forever,