Fall Is the Worst Season

Well, great, it’s fall now, so you can tuck away those freckles and dim that dazzled stupor of being skin-warm and lazy and slightly more alive. Where just a minute ago you had in your hand a copper cup sweating ginger beer and mint all over it like grass on your knees, now you’ve got a torture rack of #2 pencils and a guy trailing behind you pretending he’s being shot for J. Crew, and where mornings brightened into afternoons melted into twilight deepened into dark, hot, damp forever, you’ve now got a day that’s organized like fucking high school. Nothing’s changed about it, really, except that fall feeling; time to wake up early, time to work, time to check your to-do list, in which the last item is “die.”

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