Trick or Treat?

'Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world.
~William Shakespeare

Halloween; the time for ghosts, goblins and your occasional 'path to roam unmasked has come again. Or.. maybe not.

I've always hated the holiday. Anything swarms of people are excited about can't be good. Why dress up like a monster when you already are one? I have plenty of masks, thank you very much. The last thing I need is one with fur and fangs and a mouthhole just the right size for inserting candy.

Don't get me wrong, I can appreciate the irony. Perhaps I'll dress up like a sociopath wearing a Mask of Sanity this year. Better yet, I can remain nothing at all. A hollow vessel in the shape of humanity.

When I was a child I remember being very eager to celebrate the holiday. Roaming the moonlit streets behind a literal, unpenetrable mask. It sounded exciting.

Of course, I had other things in mind besides pilfering candy from strangers. I suppose what I was drawn to most was the anonymity. A form of camouflage that felt so much thicker and safer than the one I was learning to wear day by day.

Wearing a mask 365 days a year is difficult. The masks a sociopath must wear are just as chafing as any real one. All masks are stifling, and it doesn't take long to feel that itch that can encompass you like wildfire. Skin rubbing and scraping against this superficial identity.

It's no surprise the temptation to tear it off is powerful. The effort of sustaining a semblance of normalcy is beyond comprehension. I'm positive this build up of frustration, irritation, ire-- is what lends us toward acting more sinisterly when backs are turned. Being 'good' is a pain in the ass. A little contrast can be refreshing.

But what of Halloween? Its popularity is definitely a strike against it. So is its custom of compelling obnoxious twats to ring my doorbell for hours on end. I guess you could easily ask me, if there's anything I actually like in the world. But if I answered that question all at once, I'd have fathoms less to write about. Wouldn't I?