Summer’s End (words and no drawings)

The end of summer always feels like a real bad hangover… some fun getting there, but at the end all I seem to have is bad feelings and can’t wait for it to be over.  Perhaps, it’s like that Mitch Hedberg bit, where he compares himself to pancakes to his audience; super excited to see him at first but by the end, they’re fucking sick of him… summer is my pancakes.

I met a few women who were special in their own way, and managed to fuck up every single one of those “relationships”  One of those I truly blame myself.  Anyway, there is a month of summer left, but basically, the end of August is pretty much the end of summer in my eyes.  Also, this day makes a somber anniversary; it has been a year today since Wendy died.  It seems very fresh to me… It seems like we just met, and that was over two years ago.  By the end of that summer, we didn’t work out either.  I find it no irony that she died at the end of summer…

However, not to come off as completely morbid, the fall brings the end of greenery (is that such a word?) the cold brings a certain type or rebirth… I need it.

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