Winter woes

11 months until we meet again

Dear January,

I think it’s time I made a confession to you, a confession I’ve never told any of the other months: I kind of love you. You are my favorite month and I am so sad that we will not meet again until next year.

I’ll miss your hot and cold personality, always keeping me on my toes. I’ll miss the spats we got into when I awoke to a snow-covered car. I apologize for a few choice words that were exchanged… but more than anything else, I’m going to miss the honeymoon phase of the new year.

January, you were the hope of new beginnings, new resolutions and promise for a better year, but instead I awoke today to find you snuck out in the middle of the night. I didn’t get to say goodbye.

Did you leave because I broke my resolutions after only two weeks? I didn’t mean to, the cake just smelled so good and the gym was so far away.

You see, February doesn’t know me like you do. Such a romantic she is with her ironically cold personality. I notice every year she can only put up with me for 28 days before she flees. Coward.

So as red and pink decorate the aisles in every store, I’ll be thinking of you.

I should’ve appreciated you more, cherished the time we had together, but alas, time moves on. I can only count the days until we meet again.

Overly-attached college student