“It’s spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you’ve got it, you want – oh, you don’t quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!” ~ Mark Twain.
People say that springtime is that time of year where people fall in love, where the world comes back to life, and everything is wonderful. It’s a lie.
I have always, always hated springtime. It’s grey, it’s rainy, it’s cold and clammy. The air tastes like mud and snow. There is green, yes, but certainly not enough to make up for the monochromatic colour-scheme of the sky. Why in the world would such depressing weather inspire anybody to fall in love? Or be happy? Or not want to kill themselves? Ugh, it’s just miserable. I don’t understand why people love springtime so much, especially other people living in New England.
Today, for example, God had this incredibly clever idea that he was going to grant us SNOW. … Snow. I was not amused, let me tell you, and I daresay I am not the only one. Snow is pretty, I appreciate the fact that it exists, I really do. It’s lovely in December, before it gets slushy and my car gets stuck in it. But I am firmly of the opinion that once December is over, snow should be over too. Not to mention, it’s spring. Snow is one of those accessories of winter. By April 28th, we’re pretty much through with it, but thanks anyway.
I’ve watched so many break-ups and broken hearts in the last month and a half. I’ve broken a heart (but I’ve had the decency to try and help piece it back together, I like to think). I just wish spring would get over itself already and make way for summer. I’m depressed and blaming the weather, my friends are either falling apart or falling together (but mostly falling apart. If there’s a together, it’s the result of an apart). I think the spring has done enough damage.
And seriously, sky? Stop the snow.
Feathers & Fangs 