Halloween came fast and went fast.
Not many porch lights were on and my brother and sister-in-law noticed.
I tagged along with them and my three nieces, I got bored and I had a long week, plus it’s been forever since I’d seen my sister-in-law last, much less my nieces.
The blocks were empty, void of anything with a light here and there, sometimes we’d get lucky and find four houses on a block, and sometimes we’d get four altogether between three to five blocks.
In other words, Halloween just wasn’t there.
It wasn’t like last year where my little brother and I went and we got quite a bit and that was with Dad driving us around town, just scouring the blocks for candy, any porch light was a good light-well, most of the time at least, it’d be rare when they don’t answer and the light was on.
This year was kind of a drag in general and this Halloween was a footnote compared to the insane shit that’s transpired over 2025, but I enjoyed the excuse to go on my beloved night walks and I enjoyed spending time with my family.
I’ve been more active.
I watched the Dolphins and Ravens game last night with Dad. We had a long day.
My Dad isn’t much of a shock in this regard. His body is a living example of a walking Chronic Timebomb of Pain and Misery. The “Timebomb” affects everyone and especially himself. It eats away at him. Being in pain twenty-four-seven would drive me insane, much less everyone else. His left arm is like an exposed nerve that’s supposed to be inside his body somewhere like his funny bone or a key part to help function the kneecap, but instead it’s just in the form of his left forearm with a straight lined surgery scar down his wrist.
His feet are sore and are always in pain. I relate to this but it’s only halfway for me since my right heel is suffering from Plantar Fascitis, or at least a form of it. It’s debilitating to the point of it preventing me from enjoying my walks, going somewhere, sitting down at all in general, laying down at all, taking my first step in the morning when I get out of bed, and Jesus FUCKING Christ those damn jagged rocks I happen to step on when we’re out or when I go on a walk through a particularly rocky area regardless of region or place-like a city, in town, the outskirts, and so on-and when that one, ONE, Godforsaken rock hits right in the middle of my heel and right in the nerve, I completely regret life and I succumb to this violent cussing spree mostly consisting of F-Bombs, I swear like an edgy teenager trying to impress a girl way out of his league.
I get embarrassed afterwards, this overwhelming sense of shame always had its way of reaching its hateful tendrils and seeping into the cracks of my very being.
We’ve all been there at one point or another, but when I get at that point, it drives me into a depressive rut.
Despite all of what I just said, nothing will ever compare to Dad’s spine and the Hellish chronic agony he goes through every single day since he was fifteen, back in nineteen-eighty-five, several moons before I was even thought of.
I’m getting tired. I typed long enough and I’m just about ready to crash. I don’t mean to go on a tangent like I just did there, but it’s just that genetic version of an ugly, tacky, oversaturated, black and white polka-dotted Christmas sweater hand-me-down I got from Mom labeled with prejudice ‘Schizoaffective Disorder‘, Aspergers I can handle anyday and this ADHD can be managable, but to be honest, fuck schizoaffective disorder and anything in the ‘schizo’ catalog. I didn’t really ask for it, but I got it and I can complain, sure, but I just gotta roll with it.
My head hurts. I’m gonna sleep.
My name’s Steven. I just thought to add that, as if my sleepy state didn’t determine my bad choices enough.
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