Categories: June 1, 2026 I say I hate the dark winter months, I say I hate the dim lighting of the sun on the ice as I drive to school. But as a wake-up to a blinding light hitting my face through my halfway broken window shades, I know that all of what I say is a lie. In six months, I will say the opposite, and instead I’ll say something along the lines of missing the blaring sun against the front of my car, blinding my vision, on the way to school. Why can I never seem to be satisfied?