I am a 13-year-old in seventh grade, and this is what the pandemic has felt like for me. I consider myself one of the lucky ones. I still got to go to school. Still, it felt like nobody was really there. Usually we sat in a dark room with the lights off and the blinds closed, all of us facing some sort of electronic device, procrastinating and not getting our work done. There are no sports teams. No music rehearsals. No drama club. When I'd get home, the first thing I wanted to do is lay down on my bed and just look up at the ceiling. Every single day. I keep saying to myself, It's OK because next week will be better." But the next week was always the same. Occasionally, I would break down in tears and have to go to the school counsellor. Some of my classmates have done the same. We don't really need to talk to the counsellor, anyway. What we need is to hang out with our friends. The adults don't really understand. Whenever we'd talk, a teacher would tell us we were spreading spit particles across the room, and that could get someone sick. If we stood up, because we've been sitting for five hours straight, a teacher would tell us to sit back down because we weren't socially distancing. We have been told countless times that if we don't socially distance ... and stop doing the things that make us kids, that make us human beings, we will cause harm to others. Now, kids are scared. If they break these rules they feel like murderers, ungrateful people. But while following these rules we are killing ourselves.