We’ve all seen The Shining. You know, that Kubrick masterpiece where Jack Nicholson gets cabin fever while working as a hotel caretaker and tries to murder his family? Well, before quarantine, I thought the plot was scary but ultimately unrealistic. It certainly isn’t known for its relatable leads. After four months in captivity with my family; however, I am now starting to empathize a little too much with the protagonist.
My apartment may as well be the Overlook Hotel, considering the way things are going in here. Just yesterday, I sat down to write my (long overdue) final essay for my Comparative Literature class. Don’t judge me; time is a construct. After writing for three hours, I finally reached the eight-page requirement and was ready to submit it. However, when I went to proofread the essay, I realized that I had written nothing but “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy” hundreds of times. What a funny coincidence! Not to mention, last week, I tried to introduce my mom to my new bartender friend Lloyd only for her to insist that I was “seeing things” and “losing it.” I guess she didn’t see those two little girls in our hallway, either.
And look, I’m not saying that I’m going to reenact the end of The Shining, I’m just open to the possibility. I can only put up with my sister watching Dance Moms at 3AM on full volume for so long. Maybe Jack Nicholson was onto something with that fun game of peekaboo.
