Dear Summer,
I must be honest with you – I simply cannot stand you, as you know already, but I still cannot seem to stress my hatred enough of you to feel better about the situation. Your relentless heat, the constant hum of air conditioners all around me giving me a migraine, and the oppressive humidity that leaves me feeling damp within minutes of stepping outside are all unbearable. I find no joy in sitting under your scorching sun like so many others. I enjoy being as pale as I am.
Even during my time in Northern California, I sought refuge at the beach only on dreary, overcast days, avoiding your harsh rays as much as I could. I would love to go to New Orleans sooner, but stepping outside Anna's home at 2am in August is akin to going to hell, so fuck you for that. Your presence is overwhelming, and I long for the day you finally depart for the next 6 months.
My heart yearns for Autumn, with its cool, crisp days and the vibrant transformation of leaves into brilliant hues of gold, orange, red, and even pink. I eagerly anticipate the season of pumpkins, Halloween, horror movies, and the comforting embrace of a gentle breeze at night as my friends and I walk among the moonlight.
Sincerely, the person who would move to Alaska in a New York Second, or even Maine if I could convince my husband it was for the best. I would move to Edinburgh, however UK is turning itself into a supersized shitshow ... no one sane wants that.
Soon...