Garfield’s Halloween Adventure

“Hello, Halloween!  What a glorious day and a glorious night to go trick or treating, for candycandycandycandycandy– Steady yourself, Garfield! First you gotta get a costume, then you gotta get a sack.  A sack to hold all that candycandycandycandy– But first!  First, you gotta get up.”

Damn . . .  You know, when I hand wrote that out in my red binder my sophomore year, it took up an entire page.

Whether or not Mike and I go see The Grudge at seven-thirty, Sometime today, I must watch the Garfield show.  And the Charlie Brown Halloween episode.  My old, old recorded version, gotten back when I was about four or five years old, WITHOUT the best part of the damned show cut out of it!!!!

Anyway, yeah.  Today was all right.  My feet hurt abominably, but that’s to be expected, considering the shoes I decided to wear.  Oh, did anyone else forget it was daylight savings time?  ::Singsong voice::  I did!  I woke up at what was actually around 7:40, though of course, I thought it was 8:40.  I got dressed, and left the house, and was sitting out there for about fifteen minutes, wondering if something happened to the one I was supposed to open with, or if she had called for somone to cover for her, or something, when it dawned on me: daylight savings time.  The clock gets turned back an hour.  Which meant . . .

So, I went to Perkins, and asked what time it was, and sure enough!  Eight-fifteen.  Not nine.  So, I went back home, but didn’t fall back to sleep.  It wasn’t worth it, though now that I’m thinking about it, it may have been worth it.  Because I only got about three and a half hours of sleep last night.  Bleh . . .

Long story short, I was up ranting, either to myself or to Mike.  I’m still angry.  It’s as simple as that.  And as much as I love Halloween . . .  I hate this time of year.  This was the time of year, November 4th, or 5th, actually, where I had those dreams, a year and a day apart, about Dan, and then there was a temporary truce between us.  Those truces obviously didn’t last.  ::Kate’s brain– Well, duh.  As indicated by the word “temporary.”::  ::Me–Shut up, Brain::

Anyway.  I wrote something last night that . . . yeah, pretty well voices what I was thinking.  Hell with it, I’m not gonna bother being hesitant.  Here it is.  Maybe no one can answer my questions, maybe someone can.  If you can, if you have speculations, please, do.  If not . . . well, I can’t say I understand, because as you’ll see, I obviously don’t.  But if you don’t, I’ll accept it.

Hell, screw this.  I just want to rant.  I’m freaking angry, and I want to lash out, and I don’t know where to turn to do it.  I’m . . .  I’m limited.  I’m left alone, I’m tormented by thoughts, plagued by loneliness, and festered by inner demons.  And not one person cares to take the time to realize that.  Either I’m told I should be cultivating these feelings of rage, or told to just let go, or something else that doesn’t help.  Only hurts.  Because what do they truly understand?  How do you let go?  How do you stop hating someone for the time they’ve taken from you?  The people they’ve taken?  How do you stop the questions of how far did they have to go?  How much did he have to do?

I want to see him boken.  I want to see him hated.  I want to see him ostracized by everyone, inluding his own family, because that’s what he did to me.  That’s what I’ve gone through, and you know what?  I don’t care if it is horrible, I’d do it, if I could.  I don’t care about being the “bigger person.”  Because you know where justice and honor get you?  Nowhere!  Nowhere good, anyway.  They get you broken, beaten, lashed out at, hated, questioned . . .

WHY?!?!?!  God damnit, why?  Why was I the one questioned?  Why was I the one left behind?  Why was it me that they chose to leave out?  Why can’t I feel like one of them?  Why can’t I be one of them?  What is it about me that makes me so different?  What is it about me that makes me so horrible?  What is it about me that makes people want to leave me out?

Why, when I’m only trying to help, do I either lose the person, or end up with them hating me?  What the Hell is wrong with me that this happens, time after time?  What the Hell is wrong with me that people see me as someone to victimize?  Why the Hell am I alone here, crying, with no one with me?  Why are others, who would be in the same exact position, instead of being alone, are surrounded by people they care about?  Surrounded by people who are more than happy to comfort them?

Is it too much to ask that someone follow me once in awhile?  Is it too much to ask to not always be the person chasing after someone else?

I truly am Elphaba…  All she did was try to do good, and try to tell the truth about someone who was duping people right under their noses.  And because that person was someone so liked, she was hated for it, thought to be a liar.  She was blamed for things that outwardly looked wicked, but did anyone bother to ask the reasoning behind it?  Of course not.  “People are so empty-headed, they’ll believe anything.”

If only water would melt me…