Dear Diary and Lost Souls,
As we come closer to the heart of the mystery, I find myself fascinated by the mundane world's feeble attempts to encapsulate our charming lifestyle into costumes. It’s almost endearing, in a tragically normal way.
I envisage stores filled to the brim with Morticia Halloween outfits, Gomez outfits portraying a caricature of the deep, brooding, and irresistibly charming figure that is my father. It’s almost a work of art, witnessing the pale imitations of the originals, like an artist forever chasing the perfection of his muse yet never quite reaching it.
One can only anticipate the underwhelming attempts at a Wednesday Addams black dress, so easily overshadowed by the aura of the original wearer. Yet, in a world devoid of charm, even the palest imitations can bring a smidgen of joy, a glimmer of the beautifully macabre world that is the Addams family.
The notion that every day, common folk would choose to be us, even for a day, is rather entertaining, perhaps even flattering in a distinctly peculiar way. As I lay in my bed, visions of little Wednesday Addams Halloween costumes dance in my head, a sea of black dresses, an army of darkness in a world of blinding light.
Until tomorrow,