Summer is known to be a "favorite" season,
but I hate summer most of all.
I do hate heat and humidity,
but there's something else I hate more than that -
I didn't realize it until now.
Summer leaves me trapped inside
daydreaming of having the "best summer ever"
yet it becomes another cycle of doing nothing.
Summer leaves me searching for happiness
but I end up with loneliness, anxiety, and depression.
Everyone is busy.
{or I stop myself from having a good time
because my mental illness would rather keep me company}
Summer promises the luxury of doing nothing,
but doing nothing makes me go
insane.