summer.

i. fill your sink with cold water. put on a tank top, or sports bra, or nothing at all. shave your arms. shave all of your arms; the tops and the undersides and the little hairs on your shoulders. marvel at how cool it feels to put shirts on. rub your arms in circles every now and then. smile.

ii. walk to your nearest bookstore. or target. or supermarket. find the book section and make a small stack of the ones you’d like to read. sit down in the aisle and start reading until you’re kicked out or grow tired of it. smile at everyone who stares at you. offer them one of your books.

iii. wake up and decide that today is a day for a pillow fort. do so spontaneously and with no real knowledge of proper pillow-fort assembly. steal all pillows and blankets regardless, and attempt to make one by the kitchen table. sneak in some books, music and snacks. watch netflix until you fall asleep.


iv. there will be a flash thunderstorm on a hot day. you will be prepared. put on your lightest t-shirt and comfiest shorts. do not wear shoes. walk outside when you hear the first clap of thunder and wait for the rain to come. smell the petrichor. spin in circles. lick droplets of rain from your shaved arms. laugh.

v. buy a journal. keep it in your pocket, or bag, or on top of your head. write in it every day, until you do not. make lists of things you should do. do not do these things. write ideas for novels, for movies, for road trips and adventures. do not follow through with any of these ideas. date every entry. realize you have had the date wrong for a week and the dates are all meaningless. burn an old calendar to help symbolize this.

vi. desperately crave s’mores. forget to buy the ingredients for 2 weeks. buy them at one-fifty-two AM at your local walgreens. laugh softly at how fucking creepy your local walgreens is. take pictures of the disturbingly lopsided clearance signs. take pictures of the sad, flickering fluorescent lights. take pictures of yourself and pretend you are trapped in the limbo that is walgreens. take pictures of everything.

vii. wander around in a meadow. or an abandoned shopping mall. or the woods behind the resident elementary school. dress in your most intimidating clothes. do not be concerned about strangers finding you. feel the click of your boots over dusty floors, or the snap of breaking twigs. find the wild places in your town. revel in them.

viii. go to a store that is too expensive for you. pretend you belong there. don’t take your sunglasses off and try everything on. everything. if they don’t have your size, act affronted. if they ask you to leave, act offended. when they tell you the prices of the items, say “well that’s a little cheap, now isn’t it?". feign apathy when you leave. buy yourself some fast food and wipe your fingers on your jeans.

ix. write a list of every song you have ever been vaguely interested in but never bought. pirate them from youtube, or thepiratebay, or mp3skull. feign a pirate accent. buy a parrot. do not actually buy a parrot as your mother will become very disappointed in you. just wear a bandana instead, and say “scalawags" a lot. make a playlist of the songs. listen to them until you know every line. write said lines on your arms. sing them in the shower whilst your inky arms spider-web into tears. do not cry.

x. on the hottest day, go shirtless if you can. wear a breezy shirt over a bra/bikini if you cannot. wear your shortest shorts. do not wear underwear. wonder if anyone will notice as you walk to the closest gas station. buy a slurpee. failing this, buy a cold soda. wink at whoever looks at you for no reason other than why not? take your shoes off once you’ve bought the drink. walk barefoot over the hot asphalt with a cold tongue until your heels are so burnt they feel frozen.


smile.