When October 1st arrives, I get really excited. I leap into the garage and break out the decorations, flinging straw witches and fake pumpkins around the house. I put on "Monster Mash" and dance the chicken dance for hours on end. I order pumpkin lattes at Starbucks and eat butternut squash soup. The beginning of October is the happiest part. Then comes the questions.
"Who's dressing up this year?"
"What are you going to be for Halloween?"
"Are you trick-or-treating? Aren't you a little old for that?"
"Would you mind staying home to pass out candy?"
These questions upset me, partly because they remind me that I am no longer a child and can't pull off trick-or-treating in an adorable costume, and partly because I hate spending money on Halloween costumes, but my homemade costumes are lame. This year, I'm going as Catwoman. Already, I am missing my mask and my cat ears, and I am probably going to look more like a fat slut in fake leather than the sexy feline villain everyone loves.
I also hate that the year is almost over. I remember last Halloween like it was yesterday, and yet it was so long ago. If I could go back a year ago tomorrow, I would change so much. I would tell the boy I loved that I loved him, instead of chickening out and letting him go to college oblivious of my feelings. I would buy a different Senior Ball dress. I wouldn't get poison oak right before NCS and State during cross country season.
But as of now, time travel is impossible, and I probably wouldn't be able to change the past if it was, anyway. The first semester of college is already halfway done, but deep down I'm still struggling to grow up.
