I hate summer.
I hate the heat, I hate the clothing, I hate the tourists. I’ve always had this idea that summer is some great, magical gap between school years, where you can do anything you want and spend every waking moment with your pals. But that feeling, that excitement, like most glorious things, goes away. It’s the beginning of July, the gap between graduation and my first year of college, and so far I have worked, quit a job, and been disappointed when my plans fall through. Needless to say, anxiety is a big part of this summer, too.
I used to believe that to be happy, I had to be around other people. I had to surround myself with my friends to fill the time; to fill the time before we all pack up and go to college and start new, better lives. But when friends aren’t available, or no one wants to go out, I panic. I get anxiety and it literally ruins that night and the entire next day. I let it consume me. My mom calls it “free-floating anxiety” but I know what causes it, I always have. I watch as my friends travel the country, or world, having adventures, meeting new people, while I’m here, trying to make it until the end of summer.
I feel forgotten.
Then I remember the shows I used to watch when I was 14 and realize that I look just as whiney and annoying as the characters on the show. It’s not the end of the world and I will live to tell the tale. I am right now! I stop feeling bad for myself, put on my big girl pants, and get out of the house; even if I don’t know where I’m going.
And that brings me to today. I sit by myself at a coffee shop in the middle of the day, writing, reading, sipping my vanilla latte, and coming to the conclusion that I will be okay.
I will be happy.
I am happy.
It is okay to be alone. It really is.
Sometimes I come up with some insightful stuff when it’s just me and my coffee.
So I sit alone but never lonely, and remember that this summer will end soon enough and my life in Chicago will begin.