Dear December,
I thought the day of rest would be Friday, but it's come early. It's only Wednesday, I have two tests tomorrow, but I think tonight I will sleep enough hours for the first time this week. I am so, so, tired, and I tell my friends it everyday. /I'm tired/, /I'm hungry/, /It's freezing in here/, and they look back at me with designer bags under their eyes and only one asks how much sleep I've been getting. Six hours, I say, maybe seven. Not enough for my age. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I am so tired.
I haven't talked to my best friend in so long. I want to see her this weekend, maybe she'll play Christmas music with me outside the downtown shops. How is she doing? I really need to finish making that mix for her. I am rambling and expired and half-assed frustration is leaking from eyes and people are so empty and there is no respect for anyone at this school and I'm going out of my mind.
Don't let me go out, December.
YOU ARE READING
dear december
Non-FictionContinued from last month's Dear November letters. A little less angsty, a little more poetic. Originally done on Polyvore, by @writingtips' and @smileylina 's suggestion, who got the idea from Youtuber Carrie Fletcher's series 'Letters to Autumn'.
