over.
we are so over.
i’m so over the uncomfortable temperatures, even early in the morning. i’m so over the humidity wreaking havoc on my hair, my skin, my general sense of comfort. i’m so done with leaving the house looking one way, and returning not too much later looking as if i were dunked in the local diner’s deep fryer. i’m so done walking through what seems to be something akin to pea soup. i’m so done with worrying about my sweatstache, my frizzy hair and melting makeup.
summer, i’m breaking up with you. and if you must know, it is you and not me. you can throw out anything i ever gave you, i won’t need any of it. don’t call, don’t visit, don’t even whisper my name. i never want to see you again. we’re through.
sweaters and scarves, i’m calling you soon, i’ve missed you. want to get a drink sometime?
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