Verified Rule #13: Spring wins all the contests forever until death do us part, amen.

How do you ignore the sunshine after the time has moved forward an hour? How do the corners of your mouth not perk up when those stupid birds start chirping away, and the buds on the trees start growing? How can you possibly not inhale in the deepest way your lungs will allow (less if you’re a smoker) when the air smells as crisp and as alive as it does during springtime?

I was born in the spring. And my birthday is coming up in the next month, even though I’ve claimed that I like all seasons (or, more accurately, whenever a good day in any season comes up, I claim that I love it more than all the others. I’m a little flighty like that.) It is very regenerative of your brain, until summer happens, and then all that you look forward to in the summer manages to melt in the heat and the almost-necessary afternoon naps. I mean, all those great plans? Naptime. Road trips? Nah – naptime! Art projects, walking around with your friends? Naptime.

(Outdoor) naptime is the eternal answer to summer. But spring is eternal signpost to the end of school. It is the promise. It is the idea that you might have some time to de-stress and just “work on yourself, man.”

For me, it means friggen excitement. I have crazy plans for this summer. And they’re not even going to be somewhat disappointing. They’re going to be exceedingly cooler than any plans that I’ve ever had for summer ever (that being said, I think my plans have almost always included working.. so it’s not that hard to beat). But I can’t tell you about them yet. Well, I can tell you about one but I’d rather just show you, instead of tell you. Later. Deal?

Also, I don’t care how many suburban teenage girls do covers of Kina Grannis, I was watching her videos back when she was a vlogger and fuck you stupid clichéd people. Her songs are springtime. Her VOICE is springtime, dude.

I have been super stressed lately. And, like, I know that I wrote about letting things come, and being all mellow in my last post, but almost directly after I wrote that I’m pretty sure my brain spontaneously combusted, so I don’t know that I’m a very legit writer. Or an honest one.

It might have imploded. I don’t know. And not like in the cute little “I’m so stressed so I’m going to watch youtube videos all day” way, like that I have headaches if I leave my dark cavern of a room and eye twitches because of looking at the computer for too long but I can’t leave my computer because ALL OF MY WORK IS ON THE COMPUTER, literally, ALL OF IT, and so my eyes are red and twitching and my stomach is constantly churning (because I eat bowls of jello for dinner) and my back hurts (I lie on my bed all day) way. Fun, right?

The only good part about any of this is that it literally almost ends in 3 weeks (this is considered a short time for suffering, in my book? If I didn’t have issues before, I should reevaluate), unless you count 1 exam (easy Romantic  Lit exam). UNLESS YORK STRIKES. Which, by the way, I can’t even talk about because I end up wanting to punch a wall. Or myself. In the face.



Gripe here!

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