Sigh. My Dad and I shared our loneliness together yesterday evening, passing out candy to the little kids. I was a werewolf [which really wasn't that scary at all- all I had on was a hat and painted my nose black], but all of the little kids looked petrified. Sigh. Yet another blow to my self-esteem.
I'm sixteen, and this was my first year of not going trick-or-treating. I would have gone if someone was there to go with me, but they weren't. It seems like that is a passage of growing up, not going trick-or-treating [although some people just like candy, and will do it anyway, at any age].
God, I felt like a punk. Smelling like wood smoke [even still today], painting nails [and nose] black, jamming out to Muse in the cold, empty darkness.
It's November- that means it's slowly getting colder every day.
"So please don't blow away..."
Thanksforreading[orevenjustforlooking],
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