A Letter to July

Dear July,

I didn't want to do this and I didn't want to get so sappy about it. But I can't help it.

Dammit, July, why are you so slippery? You're like the water: confusing yet enchanting. Everything you are is breaking yet staying together, like waves crashing against the shore. It's kind of drowning me, though. It wipes my mind and soul clean and then leaves me feeling... weird. What am I left with? Ancient, salty sand? Chunks of reflective sea glass?

And no, I won't run out of imagery any time soon because that's just who I am. I'm a pile of misused metaphors and sloppy similes. 
But who cares. I don't matter right now.
You, on the other hand, matter a great amount. When I was little, you whispered grand secrets and reveries to me and sang songs that promised eternal joy. You swept me up and I fell in love with you. 
...That may have been my fault, though. I probably egged you on, didn't I? Don't worry, I still love you even though you lead me on. (To be honest, I think everyone does. You're a temptress, July, and you know it.) :P

It's nice to stalk your other received letters from admirers... That's what's so cool about the internet. I know now I'm not the only one going through feelings like this. It's reassuring, and a bit sad.

I didn't think growing up would come so quickly, July.

I didn't think little broken bits of sand in my white-cap world could hurt so bad.

Maybe I'll write you another -more positive- letter soon.
Actually, I likely will, so don't you worry.

Ciao for now, July.
Amelia

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