Samhain eve.

I am not a good witch. I am not a great mother.

There's no plans for Samhain. The weather's going to be rotten again this year so I'm not taking the children out to gather candy.

I haven't slept well in several days. When I do sleep, my dreams are stalked by the restless dead screaming for justice, clutching to me in desperation for help. The plant I had on my altar that was all lush and pretty died in the last two days covered in mold of some sort. It was only luck that I didn't have an allergic reaction to the thing when I disposed of it.

My mood is bad and I'm finding myself worrying about random things. The clamor of the dead is louder when I go out of the house because I go past my wards and there's more waiting out there. When you're sensitive to the dead, they tend to flock to you. Imagine you've been trying to get somebody to listen to you and you found someone who actually can hear you and communicate with the other people you were trying to talk to.

I am feeling pressure from various ways in my life and I am not handling it so well. I doubt that there will be any mischief tonight. Devil's night isn't much of a thing in my neighborhood.