I have always been a summer girl.
It seems to suit me finer than the other seasons, though spring is a close second.
This is my first summer as a self proclaimed adult, and I've found myself wondering what does summer even mean to me now?
It's not playing till 4 in the morning.
It's no longer sleeping in till noon.
It's not endless hours at the pool.
It's not tan skin, shorts, and tank tops.
It's not vacation. It's not stress free.
It's June, and as childish as it seems, this realization has left me feeling a little sad. Something that has brought me naive happiness for 19 years, is loosing it's luster.
My days are not hard by any means. I will be the first to admit that I am a lucky girl, with a good life.
I guess I'm just having my first lick of a real life adjustment, as silly as it may seem.
I have 3 months to find the magic of summer.
I have a feeling there's more to it than the strict definition I've always limited it to.
I just haven't figured it out yet...