Perhaps this will be outdated now that it's officially no longer summer in either sense, and summer will likely never come again, unless specific conditions are fulfilled.
But as we all know, the year started from a specific date (09/27/2024). One year has passed since that date (well, one year and two days at the time of writing). That year was filled with a lot of things. That year filled a photo roll with things that are vaguely painful to look at. That year filled a whole section of memories, more than usual.
Apparently, however, looking at it now--that year was not a good experiment. So, this year, I'm going to try something new.
Instead of making memories, I've decided to eat them.
Perhaps it's not the greatest idea to decide to eat the memories instead of making them, especially for this year. This year might be the last year I have where summer exists. But unless the heat index can prove me wrong, unless I can stitch it back together in a way that makes sense, unless I can look at my memories without resenting them, unless I can redo it all over again, I'm not going to make any more memories, I'm going to eat them instead.