Your Daily Dose of Misery

by Eman

So, summer.

It sounds so magical and promising. It brings to mind images of the sea, traveling to exotic locations, fresh summer fruit, frolicking in open grasslands with baby lambs underneath a double rainbow with James McAvoy throwing glitter on you and cherubs doing an interpretive dance above you.

IT’S A LIE.

There are no cherubs, no McAvoy, no lambs. It is nothing but darkness and death, and a very bad Copa America. It is an awful time when the Sun becomes overlord and you its dehydrated slave. It is a time when the winds rise against you and fuse with the sand to create the deadliest of sandstorms that could bury cities beneath dust and hell.

It’s the first summer that I’ve spent home for a while, so excuse me if melancholy is the principal emotion.

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