The Eve of All Hallows Eve

So I was pondering Halloween costumes tonight, and I can't decide on anything. 

Should I be a pirate? Easy, and I have most of the stuff to make it passable. It's boring, though, apparently. Every time I told someone I was gonna be a pirate for Halloween, they looked disappointed. Pirate is a no go.

A tall hobbit? I did that last year, for one. For another, it'd be something I have to explain, probably. Because tall hobbit. Also a no.

Gypsy and geisha strike me as vaguely offensive.

Elf too generic. Also used that one before.

I considered being a rabid Directioner, but I'm afraid someone will just be like, "And this is different from normal you how, exactly?"

Also thought about being Queen Bass. That's a choir inside joke. Hence, non-choir people won't get it and more explaining will be required. And it seems a bit...self-aggrandizing? Nah.

I'm not clever enough for a pun or lame enough to copy something "clever" from the internet.

I may, and this is a huge MAY, be WCW. Just need a red wheelbarrow, some white chickens, and a spray bottle of rainwater for glazing. If anyone asks what I am, I'm just going to spritz my wheelbarrow, look them dead in the eye, and say: 

so much depends

upon

. . . . you know the rest, and I'm not a plagiarist.

here we go again

my lack of self control is still in full effect, it would seem. 

the internet is not my friend.

good night.

so it begins

the time is 12:39 a.m.




i knew there was a reason internet was a bad idea.

it's been 84 years...

*takes huge breath*

I

*bursts through the door*

HAVE

*crashes through 3 walls to get outside*

INTERNET

*rips shirt in half*

. . . 

*to reveal tastefully modest camisole*

IN MY ROOM

mm....

i just did a terrifying thing

i asked a question

i asked someone for something

i asked for something i really really want

i have no idea how it's going to turn out

i am avoiding

Hot/Cold; Yes/No

I feel ancient on the one hand; I'm far too young on the other.

I know too much and not enough.

I can do anything I want. I'm paralyzed.

I have so much to tell everyone, but I can't say a coherent word.

I'm too cynical for love. Please love me anyway.

If I could only...

You can't possibly know, then. You don't understand what it means. You don't get how it feels to really, completely, heart-crushingly want.

If you did, you wouldn't just say it so easily.

I ache inside with the desire for this thing that I do not have; I am crushed down into a pinprick spike of crystallized longing.

I know not having this thing won't kill me, but I have no desire to keep living without it.

Do you understand that? I don't think you do. You're just going to call me dramatic and walk away with a flip comment.

"Just do something about it, then."

That's how I know, you know. You don't get it.

I'm a crystal of want, and rocks can't move.