Meh. Here is what gets me down about summer. I never get used to the unusual schedule of the summer sun. Sun up at 6:30 in the morning, sun down at 8:30 at night... What the fuck. Nothing to wake up for in the morning... Nothing to look forward to in the day. I stay up late, and sleep in. Resultingly, I involuntarily go to bed each day at 6 AM, and I sleep until 3, maybe 4... sometimes 5 in the afternoon.

My bedroom is the most south-western room in the house. It's hot, humid, and right under the sun. Every day, when I wake up at five, despite my window-unit air conditioner, I'm sweaty, and gross, and angry. My genitals are so hot that I can't feel them, and I spend five minutes making sure my wiring isn't tangling, and that I don't have testicular torsion.

That god-damn window unit. It's too noisy when it's on, and it's too hot when it's off. When it's on, I have to turn my music up to unusually loud levels... louder than I usually play it. Furthermore, my window leads right out onto the roof of my garage. All winter long, I look forward to Summer, so I can spend nights laying on the roof, under the stars. Then one day I come home, and there is a fifteen pound robot nesting in my windowsill.

Every summer, I nestling myself into a bizarre sleeping pattern. I see about two hours of sunlight a day minimum, four maximum. I spend days, weeks, without showering or changing my clothes. Why put on clean clothes if I'm just going to stay home? I don't answer my phone. I lose contact with my friends, find excuses out of all social obligations for reasons I can't even make sense to myself.

Every summer, I mope around the house, complaining to myself how I never spoke to the girl I spent all school year infatuating over. By August, I'm telling myself I'm going to go up to her and say something come September, knowing I never will. Instead, I'll just feel worse and worse, by my own fault, before giving up, until someone else comes along, and I do the same thing.

The only good thing about summer is quite simple... I don't think there is any point of the year in which I express myself more than during summer. Probably because I feel so shitty and lonely all summer. I write, draw, record music, etc... All summer. It's the only thing that makes it some what enjoyable.

Of course, I know come winter, I'll have a new list of things to bitch and moan about in a bout of angered depression.

That being said, give it a few more days, once I'm done taking exams. I'll be in full neurotic-insomniac-gone-nocturnal mode.