You were shit.
Okay that might be a bit harsh, but I was never one to always think positively, you know that. I had a bad month with you, and I’m finding that hard to accept. Endings of months have always been significant to me, where I recap and analyse all that happened within four weeks that feel like little chapters in my life. I like each chapter to have a happy ending, so I usually gloss over the dark days and embrace the good ones to even out the fuller picture. However, I can’t do that with you August.
You was my worst stats month since 2014. You know this doesn’t really mean that much to me in terms of figures because I know I didn’t work for them like I usually do. That was my problem with you. I didn’t look over drafts, I didn’t interact and I didn’t put my full effort into it like I usually try to. I put no work into it or you. I didn’t want to, to be honest. Mostly, I just didn’t feel in the mood. Don’t get me wrong August, I kept writing. I have so many first drafts that my laptop is full of storage and my brain is ready to pop. Ideas were just blurted out and copied and pasted thirty minutes before my self deadline. You’re making me reconsider that self deadline. I’m embarrassed to look over my blog for your month. It’s the first time I haven’t been proud of my writing, and I can’t say sorry enough.
Personal writing was thrown out the window in exchange for cryptic poetry with too many metaphors because I didn’t want to open up a can of worms, which would just leave more rambles, like what is happening now. August, you just left me feeling like I was being pulled from all sides without anyone actually wanting anything from me. Helpless almost. I’m a bit worn out from you, but I’d like to think I will welcome you back next year.
I don’t know why it is your month that broke me. Nothing too harsh happened. The problem was a lot happened. Looking back, you’re kind of a blur. Then again, that could just be my mind trying to get over you. I’m sorry things didn’t go well this time August. I’m not sure what my next move is, but I couldn’t handle playing cryptic games any more like we used to do. You deserve better. We deserve better.
I don’t know why I wrote a letter to you August.
I guess I just wanted someone else to take the blame for me.
All my affection,
P.S. I’m moving out tomorrow.