I’ve got that summertime, summertime sadness.
For the majority of the people, summer is the season when happiness becomes the meaning of a life. I don’t like that. Most of the time I hate summer. I hate the extremely hot weather that burns your skin. I hate the loneliness that summer has. I hate being left alone, a habit that I have the last years. I hate that other people are happy. I hate the sun. I hate the sea. I hate the saltiness it has that sticks in your body for the rest of the day.
Maybe I hate all these things so much because I love them in an extremely way.
I like winter when hearts and souls are cold and closed and they are looking desperate for a warm breath of yours.
“To Autumn” is one of my favorite poems. I think you can tell what my favorite season is :P
However: this summer has been a blast. The graphic novels I’ve read alone have been awesome.
This is a time
of renewal, rebirth?
Here, we all sneeze more.
Dumb slutty kids
underdress for prom.
There, the ice is still frozen.
I saw a female cardinal
in its dull brown beauty
stand out against the brightness
of the day.
Not the rejection,
but the recognition of winter.
There’s something about how winter transforms the landscape in its coldness I haven’t seen anyone really develop. Yeah, it’s a bare, bright-enough day. Because of that, those trees are a tangle, a mess not unlike overgrown hair.
Something a bit different, but similar themes: Basho, “Winter Solitude”