This article was inspired by Emily Diana Ruth's beautifully done annual Letters to July YouTube series. You can check out all of last year's letters here.
Dear July,
It's certainly no secret that you're not my favorite month, July. I much prefer the wintry chill of December, or the way each molecule of the crisp September air feels full of possibility over your stifling heaviness. I've long tried to figure out the source of my animosity, and I'm starting to realize that this particular month has always been a sort of calm before the storm for me. I've never been a patient person, July, and each year, you force me to wait 31 agonizing days, each one passing like molasses as I am forced to either wax nostalgic about past months or eagerly anticipate the coming ones.
No matter where I am in life or how much I've changed as a person over the years, you always seems transitional, July. You feel like a placeholder, a purgatory of sorts that traps me between the old and the new. I am enclosed by my past and my future. The past few months have brought me new friends, a new city, and countless new sources of inspiration. I have transformed into a completely different person, one I think I can finally say I'm proud to be. The coming months will bring the beginning of a new semester, and with it, even more new people, new opportunities, and probably a fair amount of new challenges. But this month, right now, I'm just... here. For better or for worse. Trying my best to reflect on the past while preparing for the future.
Upon further reflection, I've come to realize that maybe this isn't such a bad place to be. I've been using the past couple of weeks just to do things that I enjoy and spend time with people who make me happy. Trying out new brunch spots, catching up on reading, dancing around my apartment to Taylor Swift at 2 a.m. when I can't sleep, drinking good coffee, working hard to ace all my summer classes, reconnecting with old friends and making new ones. I'll probably spend the remainder of the month doing a whole lot of the same. It might be simple — perhaps some would call it boring — but it's been nice and, I think, necessary. In a few short weeks, when my life reaches peak craziness, I know I'll look back on this low-key summer as a fond memory.
So I'd like to thank you, July, for giving me exactly what I needed, even if it's taken me 19 years to find out what, exactly, that was.
Until next year,
Madalyn
P.S. If it's not any trouble, could you put in a good word for me with August? Thanks again.
