Dear Summer,
Sorry for the prolonged hiatus. Heinous Bitch was busy kicking puppies and swearing at old people. Enjoy!
Dear Summer,
You are a season of great joy for all of us who have chosen to make their mark on the hallowed walls of academia, because you offer us sweet succor after nine-or-so months of slaving over meaningless essays and kissing the asses of teachers who could give less of a damn. Naturally, you are a time that is much looked forward to. When we think of summer, we think of sun, sand, barbeques…and of course, fun fun fun galore, correct? We should be boozin’, smoozin’, and gettin’ wild under that summer sun. Right? Right.
BUT NO. So far, I’ve done some boozin’, yes, and definitely some totally inebriated smoozin’. But gettin’ wild? Having adventures? Definitely not. I haven’t even seen the fucking sun since I’ve left campus.
Instead, I have been working. Yes. Working. I have become but a mindless drone that hoards its wealth with little or no return. And summer, where were you when this was happening, hm? Outside, shining your goddamn happy little sun all over the place. Where is my sun? WHERE IS IT.
And where is the adventure you’ve promised me? Where is this mythical “summer fling/love/whatthefuckever” that you consistently advertise in movies and shows and commercials and everywhere I seem to turn my fucking head? I’m still looking for it. I’m open to some adventures. So if you could just drop one in my lap…? ‘Kay thanks.
Anyway. Start getting interesting, or…or…WELL DAMN IT I WILL BOYCOTT YOU. Now, excuse me while I stay inside and watch yet another episode of Six Feet Under.
Suck it, summer.
Sincerely,
Heinous Bitch
2 years ago • Notes