It was too much. The leaves the pumpkins, the smell. October was the most unromantic month and yet so beautiful. From the first to the thirty-first, zombies walked down the street, grunting and shuffling their feet. Frankenstein’s Monster stood on every corner asking for donations to the Salvation Army. Kids would “trick-or-treat” for UNICEF, but instead of candy, they wanted money. Between all of the mess of antiquated pagan myths and superstitions, people really bonded. Mutilating pumpkins by carving grins into their bodies was tradition; buying candy to give to children was expected. Halloween gave everyone a chance to be something they’re not. Grown women could dress in a bodice and short skirt and not be called a s***. Men could be chauvinistic pigs of pirates and not get slapped. Children could be ghosts and not be missed… All-hallows eve, when dark was fun and being scared was expected.
Amidst all of this, I fell in love. The gore-filled, dead-leaves-and-all month was romantic. As trees died and the warm disappeared, a candle was lit in my ribcage which melted the ice I had so carefully wrapped around my heart. An unlikely candidate. For someone like me, love was a commodity I couldn’t afford, especially when the price could be someone’s life. Getting close to me more often than not would prove dangerous to the risk taker – no matter how much they insisted I could do no wrong, how much I was perfect. Their soft, breakable insides were just too inviting; no matter how much I wanted to decline their offer, something snapped and they would end up in my back yard under a crucifix or a Star of David or a crescent moon, all with a little red drop of me rubbed off on the wood. I tried to leave that little piece of me with them so maybe I would lose the screw that held me together and just disintegrate. But she was beautiful, as gorgeous as the dead orange leaves that crunched into flakes of dust beneath my feet. She was beautiful as the selflessness of giving away candy to strangers or trying to raise money for the less fortunate. She was as beautiful as tomorrow, waking up and seeing that for some reason, life goes on and you are in it one more day. She was beautiful, but I couldn’t have her. Not if I wanted her to stay that way.