The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

In life, we grow up as kids, with these big crazy ass dreams of what the future will hold for us. It doesn’t matter if we come from the perfect home or the most screwed one. Doesn’t matter if we are beaten every day or coddled every day, we still dream, we still hope, we hold on to what greatness will come in the future.

Now, in reality, I have never met one person who said their upbringing was perfect. In fact, if someone said that to me, I’d wonder if they needed a week in a mental hospital or what drug they were taking on a daily basis (I might even start taking it.)
Fast forward to the day you dropped out of High School, graduated High School or College or Graduate School, or ran away from home before making it to 7th grade. Did you really know what you were going to do? Did your childhood dreams really come to fruition?

If they did, AWESOME! But I know, speaking to myself, they did not. Don’t get me wrong, I sure as hell went for a touchdown and field goal when it came to education. I was that great student, with the case of bad girl on the side. But alas, my career was not everything I had dreamed of nor did it ever reach the pinnacle that I dreamed of as a kid or while going to school.

There are some, the lucky ones, who come out of childhood, and hit the floor running and are lucky enough to roll right in their dream job, career, situation or combo of all. I am not normally envious, but in this situation I am envious.

Don’t get me wrong, I have no regrets. No, my career did not start out in a high-power firm, no I never made it the bench, but I did work for some notable firms. I faced tragedy, watched people die, watched people get popped, and faced my own struggles, of which I overcame and conquered.

At a few times, I thought I had something to prove, not to myself, but others. This silliness was instilled in me from a young age, it took a near death experience to wake my ass up, and realize who gives a shit what others think of you, all that matters is what you think of yourself.

Needless to say, that reshaped the later part of my career and who I am today. There’s a meme out there that says – I don’t know what everyone is saying about me, it’s probably not true, but feel free to add to it, I just don’t care.

That is me to the core. When I was a child, I was overly self-conscious. As I moved into adulthood, that followed me. It shaped how I acted in the workforce, and it normally cost me my job, because I didn’t stand up for myself, or I shuttered when I should have been firm and aggressive. (this was all the result of my childhood.)

Nothing I could have done to avoid it – but wake up and smell the coffee. And I did! I was on the verge of death, that is when a lot of people start reevaluating their lives. Flashbacks to childhood caused a lot of mixed feelings, present day pissed me off and then came “if you survive what you going to” thoughts.

When I was in the hospital room recovering, I promised to myself, no one was going to make me feel like a pissant any longer, no one was going to down speak to me again. And boy oh boy, it’s amazing when you come out fighting for your wellbeing.

Before leaving my career, I landed 2 premium jobs, and the confidence I had at both of them was overwhelming. When I walked away from the last one, I took everyone by surprise. And all did was shrug. I had to do what was in my best interests.
I walked out with my head help high, and started on my current. It’s not my childhood dream, it’s not the bad ass teenager dream, but it is okay. I am making the best of it.

To all my youth – keep dreaming big – to all my adults – if it isn’t working – take a few days off – try to redefine yourself with what will make your happy. And set a goal to make the change. Don’t be miserable in life like I was.
To those living the best life every – yes, I am jealous but I am also so happy for you!

~Peace

The morning after I killed myself, I woke up. I made myself breakfast in bed. I added salt and pepper to my eggs and used my toast for a cheese and bacon sandwich. I squeezed a grapefruit into a juice glass. I scraped the ashes from the frying pan and rinsed the butter off the counter. I washed the dishes and folded the towels.

The morning after I killed myself, I fell in love. Not with the boy down the street or the middle school principal. Not with the everyday jogger or the grocer who always left the avocados out of the bag. I fell in love with my mother and the way she sat on the floor of my room holding each rock from my collection in her palms until they grew dark with sweat. I fell in love with my father down at the river as he placed my note into a bottle and sent it into the current. With my brother who once believed in unicorns but who now sat in his desk at school trying desperately to believe I still existed.

The morning after I killed myself, I walked the dog. I watched the way her tail twitched when a bird flew by or how her pace quickened at the sight of a cat. I saw the empty space in her eyes when she reached a stick and turned around to greet me so we could play catch but saw nothing but sky in my place. I stood by as strangers stroked her muzzle and she wilted beneath their touch like she did once for mine.

The morning after I killed myself, I went back to the neighbors’ yard where I left my footprints in concrete as a two year old and examined how they were already fading. I picked a few daylilies and pulled a few weeds and watched the elderly woman through her window as she read the paper with the news of my death. I saw her husband spit tobacco into the kitchen sink and bring her her daily medication.

The morning after I killed myself, I watched the sun come up. Each orange tree opened like a hand and the kid down the street pointed out a single red cloud to his mother.

The morning after I killed myself, I went back to that body in the morgue and tried to talk some sense into her. I told her about the avocados and the stepping stones, the river and her parents. I told her about the sunsets and the dog and the beach.

The morning after I killed myself, I tried to unkill myself, but couldn’t finish what I started.