Summer has always been my favorite and my least favorite season at once.

On one side, I love it.

I love the beating sun as it shines through my window, shining bright yellow light into my bedroom, brining a smile onto my usually depressed face.

I love the heat prickling on my skin, the way my skin goes back to it's natural tanned colour.

I love the way that there's people being happy everywhere, having fun and being with their loved ones.

I love the warm colors, the perfect trees, the blooming flowers and berries.

I love the warm, happy atmosphere that the summer has, the friendliness, the welcoming smile of the sun rising on the horizon.

But sometimes, I hate summer.

I hate the beating sun as it blinds me through my window, shining bright yellow light into my bedroom, forcing me to close the blinds in his face.

I hate the heat prickling on my skin, the way my skin burns and itches when I stay outside for too long.

I hate the way that there's people being happy everywhere, having fun and being with their loved ones, while I sit there, alone and depressed.

I hate the warm colors, the trees who are gonna go back to being nude after a few weeks, the flowers and berries who already begin to rot and turn to jam because of the heat.

I hate the warm, happy atmosphere that the summer has, the friendliness, the welcoming smile of the sun rising on the horizon, trying his best to make me joyful, when all I really feel is a growing void inside my chest.

And my hatred and my love is both for the same reasons.

And I think it's the same for some people in my life.

May 11th 2022