Unfortunately, couples seem to think that you’re the perfect season for nice dates in the park. I visited the park the other day to relax and enjoy the view, only to have it be ruined by the copious amount of couples lying on top of each other. At sundown, they all acted at the same time (as if they were a hivemind!) and immediately started making out furiously and performing actions that are better reserved for the dark, dank corner of a nightclub during the loneliest hour. Shameful.
Not to mention all the creatures you seem to bring when you arrive at my doorstep! As the homeowner, I’m already exceptionally reluctant to let you enter (if it wasn’t for the unfortunate laws of time and physics or whatnot, you’d be lucky to get a glimpse of my neighbourhood), but then you have the audacity to bring all your friends with you too? I don’t want to feel like I’m being spied on by hundreds of moths while I’m taking a shower, and I don’t want to feel like I’m going to pull back the blankets of my bed to reveal a nest of spiders, and I certainly don’t want to feel like I’m playing the world’s deadliest game of Bomberman when I walk the streets and a magpie makes a mad dive for me.
My biggest gripe with you, however, is the way that you trigger my allergies like no other thing ever has. The moment the cursed clock ticked a second over 11:59:59pm on the 31st of August, my nose decided it’d be a great time to take a vacation. If it isn’t being an absolutely, completely useless chunk of flesh in the centre of my face, it’s busy producing bodily fluids that should really just stay within the body. Every time I’m in the grocery store and I wage a losing war against the urge to sneeze, everyone within a ten-foot radius immediately scampers away from me, afraid they’ll catch a virus. And it’s all your fault.
Also, you have a stupid name.
Sincerely,
Waiting for Summer.