That might be why I try as much as possible to emulate those moments once they’ve passed.

When the pandemic arrived as it did, without warning, I found myself within the four walls of my pastel-hued room. I won’t lie: as a homebody, I did not get terribly bored like many others during this time. I resorted to collecting more books and reading them, picking up new hobbies, and binge-watching a whole lot of shows and anime.

My college classes moved online, and I got invested in internships and even started writing more than I ever have. I completed a fantasy short story (which, for the record, I am never letting anyone read). But that’s besides the point. I felt happy. Genuinely and wholly so.

Then arrived the months leading to graduation, and finding a job became a priority. I shifted into a new house, relentlessly dabbled a full-time trainee position, and attempted to finish my final year thesis. Between these, there was hardly room to breathe. Finally, when I did mark my first step into the corporate world and experienced a slice of work life, I discovered that I had to tuck back all the interests and hobbies I had picked up over the past two years. As rewarding as making your own income is, there’s also that productivity fatigue. It’s that dreaded exhaustion when you commute back home after 8 hours, knowing you can’t do much else.

So, I ended up trying to recreate all the best moments of my life.

I set up lights in my room just as my old one had, I watched the exact same shows I’d seen during the lockdown, I made a schedule mimicking my days prior to starting work. It’s unhealthy, I’m sure, living in the past like this. It reminds me a little of how movie makers remake older hits. I know what worked for me in the past, so I rehash it all again.

Maybe I’m trying to find happiness the way it was. Without living the joys it might bring in the present.