I hate September. Why can’t it just make up its mind and pick out a temperature? August gets it. August is just hot. This makes it easy to pick out clothes for the day. I know I’ll wear a shirt and shorts. But in September weather, I can wear anything and always be uncomfortable. Every morning I get up, brush my teeth, and then pick out what to wear. At this point, I freeze up in front of my dresser with such a huge pile of poorly folded shirts, way too many cargo pants, and a couple of worn thin hoodies. It’s difficult to pick out what to wear.

Clothes should be comfortable, but they should also look nice. Clothes should be unique, but not “unique.” It’s only harder for me to pick out an outfit since I have no sense of color composition or fashion in general.  When I was younger, I used to dress myself in jeans, a long sleeve shirt and overalls. I am amazed my parents even let me leave the house, or that I could manage to toddle through the door.

The worst part about clothes is that they are loud.  Clothing expresses your views to everyone. What you like, what you care about, and how you see yourself can all be seen in what kind of pants you wear. First impressions are important, but the majority of the first impression is based around nothing more than what shirt looks nice.

This is only compounded at school. How I talk and act around my friends is not the same as how I am around my teachers, but how I express myself to both groups is, paradoxically, the same. In a way, the most pure version of myself is what I wear. It makes me the same person to everyone.

But I would like to believe my outfit is not all that I am. I want to believe that my personality is more than my shopping habits. The way we choose to express ourselves to others is only one aspect of who we truly are. Isn’t it? There is more nuance to our character than can be expressed on a graphic tee, but that is all that a stranger will see of me, and think of me as.

Am I nothing more than an amalgamation of funny pictures and cargo shorts?

How can I express myself in just one glimpse?

How can I explain who I am, in just a first impression?

Can this essay say more than just the Nike swoosh I wear?

I want to believe that just like my clothes, I am more than these words: these words that paint me as shallow and overthinking, these words that describe my inability to tell someone who I truly am and how I truly feel, these words that are all that I am seen to be.

I hate September.