well, technically that's over, but it's a grand summation of the growing sense of dread I feel today. Or A summation. I'm not terribly articulate and prone to exaggeration.
What I mean is, it'salmost September. And that chills my heart. LITERALLY. Weather-wise, this is a beautiful time of year: warm days, cool nights, the humidity largely gone. Psyche-wise, it sucks donkey balls. Rancid donkey balls.
And I can't quite put my finger on why. The end of summer, sure. That's depressing. Getting back in the rigid routine of the school calendar. Fall - and winter - on the horizon. I just feel so in flux, like everything is changing but in those old familiar ways. I always feel a little reborn and new in the spring, so I guess this is the bookend - feeling a little bit dead and most def a lot old. Yeah, I have a birthday coming up. And it's going to turn cold and the days are going to get shorter and shorter until the night lasts forever and I go to work in the dark and come home in the dark and everything is black and gray and ugly.
Oui. I know, I know. C'est vrai.
Stop me before I light up une Gauloise and look pensively out the window.
As much as I tell myself not to be silly and to get a gosh darn grip on it and to think sunshine and lollipops and other happy thoughts, I still feel it. Despite the hostile environment, it persists.
Onwards, into the long dark teatime of the soul, peeps. Onwards.
What I mean is, it's
And I can't quite put my finger on why. The end of summer, sure. That's depressing. Getting back in the rigid routine of the school calendar. Fall - and winter - on the horizon. I just feel so in flux, like everything is changing but in those old familiar ways. I always feel a little reborn and new in the spring, so I guess this is the bookend - feeling a little bit dead and most def a lot old. Yeah, I have a birthday coming up. And it's going to turn cold and the days are going to get shorter and shorter until the night lasts forever and I go to work in the dark and come home in the dark and everything is black and gray and ugly.
Très dramatique, n'est-ce pas?
Oui. I know, I know. C'est vrai.
Stop me before I light up une Gauloise and look pensively out the window.
As much as I tell myself not to be silly and to get a gosh darn grip on it and to think sunshine and lollipops and other happy thoughts, I still feel it. Despite the hostile environment, it persists.
Onwards, into the long dark teatime of the soul, peeps. Onwards.
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