Dear Jack Frost

I think It’s time we had a heart to heart.

Your winter wonderlands have started to become… problematic. It’s not you. It’s just…

I am tired of the color white.

Your piles of snow and pillars of ice stopped being magical the day I started walking to school instead of taking the bus. The other day When I woke up to go to work you had berried my porch in snow and the roads in ice.

I know you mean well, but snow days stopped being important to me the second I started paying to go.

Snow plastered trees and cheerful snowmen are more of an obstacle than a spectacle, and I swear if you nip at my nose one more time as I walk to class I am moving to the equator.

Will you ever leave New England?

I know this is all rather sudden, but I just can’t take another gray sky. Another day of not wanting to step outside. Another morning of not wanting to leave my bed because the only thing waiting for me is the cold tile floor.

It is hard not to feel stagnant buried under all this snow. Always moving forward, but never going anywhere. Your ceaseless cold has locked me in a waiting room. Too numb to enjoy life. I’d call it hell, but at least hell is warm.

Jack, I guess what I’m trying to say is…

I can’t wait for summer to fire you.