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A Letter from Future Summer You to Current Post-Spring Break Buried in Boston Snow You

Dear Post-Spring Break You,

Hey there, kiddo. How was vacation? Nice and warm? I’ll bet. You’re looking a little sunburnt, pal. I know, I know, if you can’t remember half of what you did last weekend while blackout drunk, how are you supposed to remember to lather up for a week? Hopefully, it will peel into a tan and you’ll be like me, blissfully bronzed and cruising through three months of vacation.

The weather must have been glorious in whatever cheap tropical destination you chose. Unless, of course, you ended up taking a Zipcar to Nantucket. It was winter there, too, ya goof. And guess what? It’s about to be another winter snowpocalypse in Boston, according to the National Weather Service. Good luck adapting to 18 inches of snow on Tuesday after a week spent in sun and/or hibernation. You’re going to need it.

How are you feeling? Hungover? Figures as much. You might have over compensated a bit on the alcohol intake this week in Florida. Your body wasn’t made for ten straight days of Jose Cuervo in the tropics, pal. Take it from me: if you pace yourself and drink every OTHER day, you’ll feel so much better in the long run. And by long run, I mean three glorious months of summer that you can’t enjoy unless you make it through the semester alive.

Having such an early spring break and be rough on you, buddy, just take it from me. I endured eight weeks of class after vacation after having only six weeks of class before vacation, and it was brutal. Just imagine scrolling sunny Instagrams of Puerto Rico while sitting in a lecture on calculus in mid-March. In fact, you don’t even have to imagine it. Just a few days from now, you will be feeling the exact same way. Feeling doubtful? Don’t be: I’m literally you two months in the future, living a totally chillax summer life, man. I am omnipotent and blissfully, now-legally dazed, bro.

College is rough broski. It’s about to drag on and on for eight torturous weeks, and you just know you’ll have a final on the last possible day. I bet you didn’t know you could have senioritis in the second semester of your freshman year, did you? It’s only fate that you should be forced to watch all of your other friends pack up and leave while you sweat in sticky May heatwaves.

You shouldn’t stress though, amigo. I survived with all four limbs and at least half of my liver intact, and you will too. You can and will get through this, because if there is any motivation to continue existing after a lackadaisical spring break in the second week of March, it’s knowing that summer is only sixty days away!


Future You, This Summer

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