Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness

I'm back on the graveyard shift, and I literally feel like a ghost working at night again. But that’s life. My body clock has been irrevocably damaged from all the past schedule changes, so nothing's likely to bring it back to normal. I avoided visiting graveyards this All Souls' and All Saints' Day because I hate the crowds. 

Living in a really touristy area means even the graveyards are swarmed with people who often treat them like campsites, losing the true essence of the season. As much as I wanted to visit my mom's niche, I didn't go—it’s a sad place for me, and I talk to her every night or day (?) before I sleep to tell her about my day, whether it’s been rough or not.

One nice thing about columbariums is that they’re blessed by a priest and prayed over every November 1st. Still, I prefer solitude when I visit my mom’s urn; I don’t need to chit-chat or make small talk with strangers.

Anyway, moving on. My siblings decided to join the neighborhood in the whole trick-or-treat thing, which didn’t happen on the 31st due to bad weather, so it was postponed to yesterday. Not that I cared—I was asleep and just heard a loud cheer that startled me awake. I almost fell out of bed, only to realize the noise came from kids excitedly trick-or-treating and enjoying the candy my siblings prepared for them. In short, it was a hit.

I can already feel the Christmas breeze these days. The cold front is finally here, and for someone like me, who’s always cold, it feels like borderline hypothermia.

Working at night makes me feel like a ghost, hovering back and forth.