I traded the east and its four seasons for summer year round. It's October and here I am  - when I thought I was so sure - begging for rain, gloom, burgundy leaves, crisp winds. Everything I knew California was never really good for. Maybe I shouldn't have swapped for all this sun, but it was me that asked for consistency; for joy and light. Is it bad that right now the very climate I curated has me one sunny day away from imploding? Sure, numb fingertips make it hard to function, and I hate wet socks from inevitable puddles, how sickness spreads, bundling up, making room to hang winter coats just to vacuum seal them because summer solstice is here, and humidity haunts, and "who the fuck does she think she is wearing a parka in spring time..."
So I moved to California and all we get is sun. This falsehood of good weather sadly mistaken for no reason not to smile, when in reality too much smiling is just as painful as the east and all of its change. I gave up on the east, and it's four seasons that boomerang like long lost lovers eluding me just as we'd approach the stick of "getting way too comfortable", because I thought I wanted forever joy over sometimes pain. Forever sun, over sometimes rain. Rain. I literally need you.
           - Drought