A Breakup Letter to The Summer Heat

from: Me
to: The Blistering Summer Heat

I don’t know how we got to this place. I remember spending cold winter nights daydreaming about what it would be like when we were together again.  I couldn’t wait to live surrounded by your sunny embrace. You were all I could think about. And when you finally came around, you were the best thing in my life. You brought me so much love and joy and even on the select few occasions where you were a bit too much too soon, I embraced it. It had been almost a year since I had felt that warm feeling and so I perspired willingly. At some point, I fell in love with it.

But your comfortable breeze quickly turned stale, thick and stuffy. You’ve changed. And I’ve changed. Literally. I cannot wear fewer than 3 shirts a day because I sweat through all of them. I take off my socks every day and wring them out like sponges, shedding a little of our love with every drop of foot sweat. It really just feels like you’re doing this on purpose to control me. I used to be able to wear whatever I wanted, but now I have to dress myself according to how hot you’re going to make the world. I want to decide what clothes to put on my body based on my style or mood, not based on how unbearable you are going to be on any given day.

And it’s not just what I wear – it’s everything I do. I can’t even make plans without first consulting you. I can’t just spend the day on a hike with friends or taking a stroll in the park, not with you there, blowing hot air down our necks. You make it impossible for us to just enjoy ourselves. You’re suffocating me.

I think I need to find someone more temperate. Perhaps a manufactured jet of cool central air, or maybe an entirely new season. I hear pumpkin spice is great this time of year– maybe I will find myself a mild autumn breeze to love. I don’t know who I’m meant to be with, but I do know it’s not you.

I do still care about you and I want us to be friends. I just don’t know how to do that at this point. That’s the hardest part of all of this. In fact, as I type this, I cannot tell if I am sweating or crying. Perhaps it’s both. But that’s exactly the problem; I am just not happy with you. And I don’t think I ever will be.

I hope we can still be friends.

All the best,
Christine

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