Stolen August

I know it isn't exactly justified for me to feel robbed of my August, but I do, nonetheless. I know summer's not over for another three weeks and I don't have to go back to school, technically, but I love August. August is an amazing month of possibilities and adventures. I don't know what makes it so much better than July, but it is.

For some reason, I can't wrap my mind around the idea that it's over. I won't see it again for almost a year and I better move on quickly because if I don't awake from this nostalgic slumber, I'm going to miss September, too.

The goals of my summer are relatively untouched. This is not to say that it was a bad summer at all but I didn't read an overwhelming amount, I didn't write nearly enough and things are all but still on the boy front.

And yet there's something so incredibly satisfying about beginnings and September always seems like a whopper. I'm still sad that my season of short shorts is over (Alex wears short shorts?) and it's going to start raining more frequently (move on already, people, it's Vancouver) and that my friends are returning to prison school so I won't have full access to their company anymore. But I'm also happy. Undeniably excited and alive.

I still want a little August back, though.