the end of summer | myoui mina

she was the stereotypical summer love; the beautiful and bubbly woman that acted as a stark contrast to your stoic and flawed self. you know the version of her with the salt and sand on her skin, and wet curly hair.

you love her, you yearn for her every minute. you don't want to remember the time you spent together because it makes you miss her even more. but you never want to forget how she made you feel and how happy you became, even if it was just for a month.

nevertheless, she belongs in summer, and your summer love cannot go any further.

the end of summer feels equivalent to hell.