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The End of September – September is the absolute worst month. After three months of heat and sun, you can feel your organs beginning to slowly cook inside of you, like a human crock pot, and it just stayed hot. You have to deal with the return to school, the slow wave of assignments bearing down on you, all alongside the sheen of back sweat forming between your shoulder blades. But that’s finally over and now we can all enjoy October, a month of hoodies, pumpkins, cider, and all-encompassing dread. Seeing as all-encompassing dread is a part of every month, this seems like a pretty good deal. So goodbye, September, you were kind of the worst. Except for March. You know what you did, March, you selfish hussy.
Making Intense Eye Contact With People on Passing Trains – Hello, strange man with flowers tied in his hair. What is your life like? If we weren’t on two passing trains, the amount of eye contact we’re making right now would be super weird, but you’ll disappear from my life in about two seconds, so why not keep staring at each other? This is a nice little … what is that you’re holding—a baby picture? What’s the name written on it? It looks like my n … Why are you crying? Oh my God. Grampa Alighieri, they told me you died in that forest. I have to get off this train. No. No. Open the doors. That’s my long-lost grandfather, you apathetic bastards, no I will not step back behind the white line. Please stop the train. It’s pulling away. I can still see his hand against the glass. Grampa Alighieriiiiiiiiiiiii.
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“The Best Four Years of Your Life” – We get that when people say this, they’re trying to get you excited for college, to make you appreciate the opportunities you have here, but Lord, does anyone realize how depressing this idea is? So you’re telling me that this is it? The 50-60 years that will hopefully come after this are just some kind of sad epilogue? Great. No, that’s fantastic. You didn’t want to do anything worthwhile after college anyway. There’s nothing better than peaking with three quarters of life left to live. Maybe marriage, the birth of a child, achieving a dream or two will come up, but you’ll always remember that they’ll never measure up to that one house party on Foster when a girl vomited on your shoes or that one class on SocioPsychoChemical Scatology you took. From here on out, you’ll just spend your days sitting alone in a dark room remembering these four years of your life and how they were the best.
Talking Like a Grizzled 70-Year-Old Detective Because Your Throat is Congested – Walking silently out of the library, you hear a friend call out to you. Turning, you hold out your hand and growl at them like a wildebeest. They flinch away at the horrible death-curdle coming from your throat. Holding your elbow up to your mouth, you struggle to clear your throat and end up coughing like a maniac. Your friend slowly inches away from you, meekly whispering that they have to get to class. It’s a Saturday.
Featured Image by Abby Paulson / Heights Editor
