Dear cold

I'd like to personally tell you that I despise you. You always come around when I'm starting to enjoy the seasons and then you hangout with me way too much and scare off all the people that I like to be around.

You make me stay up at night and it agitates me because I want so badly to sleep. The feeling of hammers hitting my face is a close resemblence of what you tend to provide. It makes me whisper in my head of times before when smiles were extremely common and the air was crisp without making me cough every 5 seconds.

Your presence is lame. I hate you cold. I hate you. I hate all of your nasty little tricks. I hate all of your stupid ideas. I hate that you don't want to leave when I tell you to.

FUCK you.

That's all I have to say for now. Seeing as your coughing won't let me speak much. Asshole.

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