Ida Lego

“You break me, year after year and still, I come back to you. I spend every fucking day, ten months, three hundred days, waiting for the summer. It's all I live for. It's all I worry about. How can I get back to you. And every year, you push me away. And you pull me back in. You keep me at a distance, even when you let me get close. Every year, I want to give up. And every year, I can't.”
― Camille Harte, For the Summer