It's that time again: summer.

That means just about nothing to everyone, so I guess I should explain its significance to me. From the time I hit puberty and adolescene seized my life, summer was always greeted with apprehension, with fear, and with dread. Every other regular kid in the world ran home on the last day of school, eminently joyful and happy, whereas I was burdened with another three month break of torture.

Summer to me always meant self-destruction. Summer meant too much time for me to dwell on thoughts and ideas that seemed too true and sad. It meant neverending fatigue and constant speculations about my life and my friendships. It meant endless nights of crying and staring at the moon out my bedroom window. It meant wishing upon stars even though I knew none of those stupid wishes would ever come true. Summer equaled lonliness. The type of lonliness that permeates your entire being and fills every waking minute of your life. The type that is always right behind every laugh and smile, never letting you forget that you are hurting and that whatever happiness you have found is a fake happiness.

You can smell it. The summertime. Ready to wrap itself around you and suffocate you.