Summer Dying Fast
Without purposefully going out of my way to reminisce about the joys that these scorching days of everydying freedom used to bring me, I’ll digress to say that it’s much more different now than it was 5 years ago.
It is a simple approach to say that the innocence of youth helped make summer an idealistic period. That period of not having to look at the clock and say “Fuck, time to get up”. Those few precious days where spontaneous action reigned supreme and you were allowed to go out and be as ridiculous as possible with your friends in that short amount of time before the insidious claw of academic slavery crept back up your spine for another year. It’s a painfully quick process that not only casts a slight variance of depression upon most; I have no reason to feel this emotion anymore, and yet it’s still affecting me in the most minute of ways possible.
Summer has long since died for me, but why do I feel as if I am missing something to finalize my severance from this harsh, overwhelmingly heat-consumed season? Should I be searching for something to distract me from it, or is there something that I truly have missed out on that has since robbed me of the chance to feel as if summer is not just a temporary escape anymore? Are my thoughts recognizable to anyone else, or is this synesthesia being a bitch once more?