Pointless Curses, Nonsense Verses

Summertime

When I say I don't like summer, people look at me like I'm insane. To them it's incomprehensible that I dislike the season, even daring to go as far as calling it my least favourite time of the year.

'But...it's summer,' they cry, 'the weather's warm, the nights are long and we get two months off of school.'

It's true that the temperature is warm, but that just makes it all the more unbearable. When the sun is beating down on my hoodie swathed back and I feel that I could pass out from the heat, there is nothing enjoyable about it. I get dripping sweat patches under my arms and my hair goes damp and curls. I look and feel disgusting.

In the summer, one of my few friends might invite me to go to the beach on a particularly hot day, but I will always say no. On the beach you are expected to wear as little clothing as possible and I hate that. It's almost as if you're revealing yourself for everyone to look and judge. When you're one layer away from being naked, it's impossible to hide anything.

I hate my body. My puppy fat and stretch marks that I've been told time and time again I shouldn't be ashamed of always manage to depress me. Not to mention the pale, thin scars that run up and down my arms and thighs and stomach. I can't get rid of them now, but that doesn't mean I want to show them off. People will stare and whisper, I'll get pitying looks from people I don't even know. That's not how I plan to spend my time.

'Summertime madness', as I like to call it, seems to infect the majority of people. The notion that as long as it's sunny you should be outside every moment of the day. My mother is one of these human beings and never shuts up about going out and doing something. I am forced to partake in various 'fun' activities whilst simultaneously wishing I could be inside and in my room - preferably with the blinds down. In the winter there is no such attitude; the wind and the rain, plus the chilling temperatures, dispels any ideas of whiling the days away in the park and I am finally left in peace.

Call me a cynic but I've just never experienced the joy that summer is supposed to bring. In classic and modern literature summer is always used as a metaphor for the happiest time in the protagonist's life but for me it's the other way around without exception. Perhaps it makes me the antagonist, the bad guy, but winter isn't my depression or my death. I have never felt darker than on the long, light evenings of a summer night, when the birds all scream and the leaves burn with the fiery red of the setting sun.

"Hey, Elliot!"

"What do you want Rory?" I look up from my notebook, filled with my messy scrawl, and into the eyes of my best friend.

"Want to come and get ice cream with us?" He gestures to the two figures behind him, who both smile in return. My three friends stand there expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"Sure," I reply briefly, and begin to stuff my belongings into my backpack. It's been a long time since we did anything together so I wasn't going to pass on this opportunity. As introverted as I am, I still value spending time with my friends.

We walk in silence for a while, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I appreciate the quiet. Sometimes talking isn't necessary and we all understand that. As usual though, Rory's the one to destroy the tranquility.

"Can't believe you missed the beach party on Friday. It was awesome! Harriet got drunk and kissed  Alex."

"Aren't they both gay?"

"Yeah, she was just absolutely hammered. It was really funny though."

"I already told you Rory, I had something on already." I didn't, but I was eager to avoid having to expose my skin for the entirety of my school year to see.

"You always say that," he sulks, and we continue to walk to the ice cream shop, the sound of my converse rhythmically hitting the pavement punctuating the air.  

The shop bell rings as Ash opens the door and we all troop in. The place still smells like caramelised sugar and mint, bringing back childhood memories and I let myself smile slightly.

Rory orders for me because he knows it makes me nervous. I get choked up and order the wrong thing every single time. My mother tells me I need to grow up but I honestly can't help it. I try telling her it's not my fault but she never listens.

"Thanks," I say, taking the cone.

"Do you want to sit on the sea wall?", Ash asks.

We nod in agreement and head towards the sea. Sitting side by side on the granite wall, we look out to the horizon and watch as the sun begins to lower itself below the waves. The sky takes on a roseate hue, which fades to orange and then pale yellow.

I lick my ice cream slowly; my hair blows gently in the wind as I listen to my friends laughing beside me. For the first time this summer I feel content. Happy. Perhaps I misjudged the season after all. Maybe I just had to give it a second chance?

"You've got ice cream all round your mouth Ash," I say, turning to my friends as the sun finally disappears from sight.