The unbearable lightness of other people's problems
I didn’t want to accept summer was over. I spent the past week hating those newsletters that celebrated the prospect of hot tea and cosy sweaters, I got mad at Charli XCX for saying goodbye to brat summer and I reminded my boyfriend that actually the season ends on the 21st of September so the fallen leaves mean nothing. I didn’t complain when he turned on the fan the other night, because I had decided summer would be a state of mind, and the following morning, like clockwork, I woke up with a tight chest and an ugly cough. So I guess autumn has arrived, and I would be pissed off at that if I wasn’t busy coughing.
This isn’t a newsletter about the seasons. There are enough of them and they are better than whatever I can come up with in my state. This is a newsletter that I fe…