I used to dress up for Halloween. Not anymore. Once you turn 12, I think it’s time to stop. That’s when I stopped, anyway.
They always made a big deal of it, though. Or so it seemed to me. They would build up my anticipation for weeks. I was supposed to make my own costume, too. They’d ask every day in October what I was making. But I never knew what I was supposed to make. Then there would be suggestions and I didn’t like any of those.
Last year, maybe out of habit, she asked “What’s your costume this year?”
I said, “I was gonna put a grocery bag over my head with some rope around my neck, drop my pants, be a rape victim.”
I can’t remember a single year I didn’t just wear a costume bought last minute at the drug store.
I want a cat. My…
View original post 677 more words