A Love Letter to April in Chicago

Dear April in Chicago,

We’ve just endured the three harshest months of the year, and what do you know, you’ve finally fucking arrived.

But as it turns out, you’re just as bad as those last three. In fact, you may even be worse because technically you don’t even fucking belong. You’re supposed to be warm — SPRING, SOME MIGHT FUCKING SAY — but instead you keep bringing us the chilly fucking temperatures and cloudy fucking skies that absolutely nobody asked for.

We put in our TIME, April. Remember that fucking week in January where it was in the negatives every day? When my face got fucking frostbite just looking at the forecast?

That was the winter I learned it can be too cold to even fucking snow. Snow is the fucking epitome of “it’s cold.” EVEN THE SNOW DIDN’T WANT TO FUCKING BE HERE.

SERIOUSLY HAVEN’T WE SUFFERED E-FUCKING-NOUGH? Weren’t those months slipping on fucking sidewalks and eating vitamin D pills like fucking popcorn enough for you?

We got absolutely fucking MOCKED in March when the first day of fucking spring rolled around and the weather acted like it hadn’t HEARD of a different fucking season.

But we all thought SURELY April will get the memo that spring is fucking here. Surely April will know that it’s…