The cicadas have taken over. Everywhere I look, there they are. For those who are lucky enough to live in an area that hasn’t been affected by the beady-eyed demons, here is a quick lesson. They are an insect that live underground and emerge every 17 years for one summer. I didn’t understand the gravity of the situation until I came home for the summer and heard nothing but chirps and saw hundreds of them crowded on trees. This goes out to all the cicadas, may it be a long 17 years before your return.

I hate the way you chirp all night, and all day for that matter. The amount of you there must be to make that kind of chatter, is cause for serious alarm. It is as if the trees are yelling at me, but the culprits can’t be seen from afar. Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.

I hate the way you look with your exoskeleton. Your huge eyes and wings are not making you look any friendlier. You are twice the size of most bugs, and that is two times too big. Seeing one of you is bad enough, but you like to hang in large groups. The site of a hundred is just unsettling.

I hate the way you fly around and always seem to be aiming for me. I feel like I am ducking every other minute if I am outside too long. I hear horror stories of them landing in shirts and find myself checking my hair to make sure you haven’t nested. I had to debate if it was necessary to tell a random man at the pool that you had decided to chill on his elbow.

I hate the way you dive bomb my car. Driving on the interstate, one after the other hits the windshield. You are stronger than the automatic carwashes and won’t come off without a fight. It is like a reminder that even in death, you still win.

I hate the way you cluster in trees, laying the next generation. You swarm the trees and it is frightening to look too closely. I have neighbors who put aluminum foil on their trees so you don’t climb up them and kill their branches. Along with the trees, you leave so many wholes in our yards and I’m concerned of either stepping on one of your homes or just completely tripping and falling over them.

I hate the way you are here and how you will leave all of your skins here when it is your time to go. Your one redeeming quality is that you are only here for a few more weeks and then it won’t be another seventeen years until I have to see your beady eyes again. I hope by my late thirties that I will be better prepared to handle the cicada season.

Until next time, you won’t be missed.

Sincerely,

A concerned citizen.