Summertime Sadness

This is supposed to be my summer. My last one as a minor.

My last one before I finally get out of here.

Before I’m 18 and free and somewhere else — somewhere loud and full of life and not this fcking village.

I had this whole romantic plan in my head.

Write music. Make some noise.

Start studying so I’m not scrambling when exams hit, because let’s be honest — I know nothing.

Make this summer unforgettable.

Instead? I’m bedrotting. Professionally.

I told myself I’d start writing songs — but damn, I think I lost my muse somewhere between TikTok doomscrolling and existential dread.

Every time I open my notebook, I just stare at the page like: “girl, where’s the emotion?? where’s the fire??”

It’s giving nothing. And I hate it.

I also wanted to shoot some goofy ahh short film — you know, DIY style, me holding the camera, maybe some weird horror-comedy thing.

But my brain is just static.

Like full-on “404: creativity not found.”

Did I peak creatively at 17?? Be so serious...

And don’t even get me started on this village.

It’s cute in theory. Aesthetic if you take the right photo.

But it’s dead.

Dead energy. Dead dreams. Dead WiFi.

I swear the only thing louder than the bugs at night is my need to GTFO.

I know I need to study.

I know I’m behind.

But it’s like my body’s here and my mind’s just floating above me like some lost balloon.

This summer doesn’t feel golden.

It feels... like waiting. Like limbo. Like the slowest burn.

Like I’m stuck in this weird in-between — not a kid, not an adult, just vibes and vibes and unfinished Google Docs.

But maybe that’s okay.

Maybe this sad, sleepy summer is just the last quiet breath before everything changes.

And when I finally get out — to the city, to uni, to the version of me I’ve been dreaming about — I’m gonna create like hell.

Songs, films, art, everything.

I just need to survive this weird little summer first.

One slow, slightly dramatic, slightly stupid, deeply human day at a time.