every year I go through this charade. It used to be four weeks, then two, and now I wonder if even one would be too much. The heat and monotony is driving me insane. I have nothing to do, and itās too hot to do anything. The closest thing to a refuge I have is conveniently also the only room in the house without aircon, and no furniture besides a bed. Every other room is crawling with people who, to be completely honest, drive me fucking insane. Every day is like a day-long meltdown happening in slow motion, and I am only granted a momentās respite when I sleep. Iām dehydrated, I barely eat, I think Iām losing my mind, and I do this to myself every year, because I am a masochist (my mother even said so). My thoughts are way too loud and way too cruel












