I want to make a costume. I want to put on latex and leather and a corset studded with screws, and I want to wear a wig, fake lashes and cupid bow lips in black. I want to move around, tall and regal, and see the world through someone else’s eyes. I want to wear gloves and ignore the heat and the sweat going down in rivulets on my spine under the synthetic material, because I want to be black and shiny and mysterious. I want to be Macabre Toshiya.