I'm done with you.
We're breaking up.
See, I'm cheating on you with December a little.
It's you, but it's me too.
You've tried to cram too much into such a short space, with too many holidays, and I think I'm just overwhelmed.
See, I like you a lot.
You have great chilly mornings, and evenings that are just crisp enough for me to see my breath, and it doesn't rain as much as October (that idiot).
The leaves are gorgeous. You're gorgeous.
Even the encroachment of the holidays on you isn't so bad. The holiday lights in my room are pretty, and I know you aren't judging me for jumping the gun.
And good job on that holiday centered around turkey and football.
The thing is.
This is my calendar for the month:
See that giant PROSPECTUS on the 22nd?
Well, that's tomorrow.
And I'm freaking out.
So maybe we aren't done.
Maybe I'm overreacting.
Let's talk tomorrow at 5, k?
Amber, you're favorite stressed grad student who loves you, but doesn't know if she's IN love with you.