So it turns out that familial hypercholesterolemia runs in my blood which is fine because I’ve been more mindful of my health over the past year than I ever have before, and my mom, and possibly me, is participating in a study to learn more about the inherited defect and there are developments in medication to manage the condition. This is all great but over the past week, looking at passing days on the calendar, I wholeheartedly (intentional pun) thought I would have a heart attack.
Another thing that came up while tracking the date was how the first real text post I made on my blog was about a year ago. I think I wrote about just doing things for the sake of doing them. Have I lived up to my former self’s expectations? Big fat no.
Here is my feeble semi-continuation of that dialogue.
Today is August thirty-first (at the time of me writing this, of course!). I wrote that out with letters to feel the full weight of date. Auggussttt thiiirttyyy-fiirst. It feels so heavy. It feels thick and suffocating like humidity with no mall or movie theater to escape to. I feel the pressure of my summer expectations pushing against my head just below-behind my ears the way I do when a deadline approaches. Pronouncing every syllable of that date feels like my mouth is a third of the way through a marathon that I didn’t prepare for and I’m dead last and I don’t think I can make it to the end.
Right now, I hate September like an enemy. The approaching month feels like its denying me the potential of happiness my suppositions of summer held because it’s over. Summer’s over. I know I still have about 23 days of summer but with the beginning of the school year, I know my freedom is over. But the thing that has me ocean-salty is that I deprived myself of that freedom these past four months.
This September also marks my last first day of school for now. This should finally be the last year of my undergrad, but to get here, I had to take classes over the summer. Since May, I took two classes; one class lasted until the end of June and the other finished two weeks ago, in mid-August. Both classes were time consuming and difficult in their own way and frankly, I didn’t enjoy either of them. But they’re over and resentment like this is not a useful feeling so I won’t dwell further than this post.
When I think of summer, I think of warm nights, the sun setting past my bed time, fireworks whenever we can, leisurely reading, friends, and minimal responsibilities. I think of doing what I want to, and driving far, and eating strawberries off the vine and driving family to the airport. I think of summer tinted orange and yellow, and sleeping with the window wide open, hearing people walking past late at night, laughing.
Where did my time go? I already stated the answer above but God, where did my time go? I feel like summer is a river at the bottom of a canyon and I’m bungee jumping, and I’m rushing towards it but as soon as I’m close enough, what feels like arm’s length, the inevitable recoil prevails. It’s not exciting or exhilarating. It’s devastating every time.
Now, I realize my view of summer is romantic, as it tends to be with most people. With this eternal reoccurrence of disappointment surrounding the season, should I manage my expectations? Probably. Will I? Not yet. Let me briefly tell you why. If time is forever but there’s only so much we can do, am I destined to relive this endless bummer forever? Isn’t that what Nietzsche was wondering? But what if something changes? Does that mean the cycle can break? If I finally graduate in April, does that mean that the potential of my expectations of summer might actually be realized? Could it be? I guess we’ll have to wait and see, because what else is fall and winter but killing time until spring and summer comes back? Maybe next summer really will be the best one ever.
Anyway. Please note that I will be dreading the upcoming cooler weather, and that my misery will grow exponentially when daylight savings punches me in the gut and slaps me across the face in November. Further, it will not subside until mid-March, and I swear to flipping goodness, if anyone comes at me with some bullshit about how winter is the best season, I will force all of the vitamin D pills that Paul is coercing me to take down your throat so I never have to hear that bullshit again.
Thank you for reading. This is all I have to say for now.
PS. The most burdensome thought is thought itself.
PPS. If you’d like me to stop complaining here, please suggest alternative topics. I am well versed on few matters but have an opinion on a lot.
PPPS. If you’d like, you can click through and buy me a cup of coffee via my new shop. I’m testing this whole e-commerce thing out for when I start selling prints. I realize the likelihood of anyone getting this far AND actually doing it is slim AF but here’s to trying.