Another hollow Halloween, another sad fucking Halloween.

I remember so many years watching Halloween come and pass. Envy filled my every bone as I detested my fear of expression. I stopped dressing up for Halloween as soon as I could. Likely around puberty or seventh grade. I have not participated now in over fifteen years. And oh how I want to.

This holiday conjures in me everything I hate about my life. All those years "wasted" not being who I am, trapping myself in pain, envy, death. And for all that fear, the best thing I got was an interesting perspective and bunch of empathy. But what about me?

I lost friends, hope, expression, joy, happiness. I became a wallflower because I had no other options. And now I am stuck fighting a foundation wrought with the soot of black flames. I must create what I should have created nearly thirty years ago. It is painful, empty, hard, and alone.

My only shot at becoming a real human who can do all the human things is to conquer my pain.

I want so badly to be a person who gets excited by Halloween. A person who loves to dress up fancy sometimes, go out to events, capable of meeting a whole new group of people and being me. A person who can be a friend first, and a therapist second. A person who can keep their fucking mouth shut sometimes.

But being those things seems impossible with this pain. I hope I win. But I won't care if I don't.