I don't want summer

Everybody's excited.

It's summer, after all.

I lie in my room, terrified of the pool parties,

The farmers markets,

The ice cream,

The fun,

The outside,

The friends,

The library.

I lie in fear of the nostalgia,

Of missing what can't be missed,

Of becoming someone I'm not but someone I try to be,

Because the thing, the thing is,

I'm not the person you see me as - they see me as - I'm not,

I'm not that person.

I'm not the person I was last year

But I fall into the pattern of who I was

Because I'm used to it -

It's my routine -

To always be in charge -

Always be on top of it -

To love so many people -

Like it doesn't hurt me too -

While I am scared of myself.

I'm not that person,

I'm not and I'm not and I'm sorry,

But not really,

I am who I found this year,

Yes,

I am

Her.

But I can't be that person

Without the person who makes me me

And what if I want to be?

Why am I trapped in myself?

I don't want summer.

I'm scared of it.

I'm scared of the distance it puts

Of making everything back how it was,

I'm scared of how it was, now,

After I've seen what could be.

I'm scared of falling back into awkward with the person I grew to trust -love - more than anything.

I'm scared of falling back into leadership when I don't need to - shouldn't need to.

I'm scared of the drama and the hangouts and the gossip and the anything, everything, that comes with these people.

I love them, but I can't be the person they know,

After knowing who I can be -

After feeling that that is who I am, truly,

Undoubtedly.

I don't want summer

Because it means the same

And after being scared of change for so long

Now the routine feels scary, too.