I’m sick of summer, too.
I’m sick of summer, the sticky skin and the sweaty sheets. I’m tired of competing with the din of the air conditioner and of listening to stories about trips to nearby shores I have or haven’t heard of. The sounds of summer are starting to grate, the kids shrieking through sprinklers and the announcement of the ice cream man as he circles my block and your block and every block; can’t he tell we’re not interested?
I’m tired of shaving and swimsuits and sunscreen, sick of days so long they stretch out for miles. I’m sick of looking at my shadow and thinking about my body and I’m tired of you looking at it. I’m tired of the dresses and how they cling to my torso like wet newspaper or blow in the hot thick wind, revealing all my secrets. I’m bored with showing my toes, bored with giving everything…
View original post 267 more words