The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

So I guess I'll just write something tonight. No stories. No poetry. Nothing that would make me seem like anything more than what I am.

I spent a part of my weekend at the beach. It's funny that I would go to the beach. I don't know how to swim. Yeah I know, I'm almost 30 and I can't swim. I don't like large crowds, so that didn't make things any better. And I hate the summer heat. So I ask myself, why go to the beach. The answer fails to come to me. All I could think of is that I'm looking for something. Something that would make me believe that I'm just a normal guy again. I used to believe that. I mean, I believed that I was just like everyone else. Not some complete freak that stood out wherever he went. But lately, I feel like I'm shutting myself out to the world I once knew. I just want to go out and have a good time again. I want to be someones friend. It's sad. I've been back in this town for over a year and my friends I can count on one finger. People on here seem to think that I'm an ok person, but if that's true then why am I alone. I've been single for a while now. I don't even remember what it is like to kiss a woman. I barely remember what love feels like. And throughout all of this, I spend more time at work than anywhere else. I hate this feeling.

Many people have asked why I sound so depressed in my journal. It's not that I'm really depressed. I just have many things to reflect upon that I can draw this feeling down and pin words to it. This story you are about to read was written last year. It is a true story of part of my life and I would appreciate it if what is written here, stays here. I don't need any lectures or anyone preaching about anything I've done wrong. I put this here of my own accord and hope that maybe it helps answer the question of my sadness.



The summer of 1995 I decided to go to summer school to get an extra credit. My family loved the idea. So my step-mom talked to a woman that she worked with about me and her daughter taking turns driving to the school. It went well. Me and the girl started dating about three days into it. A lot of things happened in that time. We were doing everything that we were told not to. Rebels. But we were happy. Things started getting out of hand after about 2 months. She got pregnant and had an abortion. This didn't stop us though. We were drinking and doing drugs. We had no worries. In September, I was arrested by three cops. Arrested for a crime that she had committed. I loved her so instead of telling them that she did it, I took the blame. I was tried as an adult and sent to prison at the age of 17.



A few years go by. I was released on July 23, 1999. That day I decided to forget about her and move on with my life. Well I was still running around doing the stuff I wasn't supposed to, but I was away from my old life. I never looked back.



A few more years go by. In September of 2004, I received a phone call from my step-mom. At this point, I was in Chicago. I wasn't prepared for what she was about to say. When I answered the phone, I didn't hear, "Hello" or "How are you?". What she said was, "Are you alright?" Then we talked for a few minutes. What she had told me, never really struck me until this past week. My friend, who was with me when she called, said that all the color disappeared from me when I answered.



This past week I have watched something unfold that I would have never imagined. I watched as the girl from my past shed more tears than anybody I know. I watched as she was found guilty of kidnapping and murder. The details of the case were just horrific. She had wrapped the guys head with duct tape. Her fingerprints were all over the tape. The freezer she dumped him into was in a storage place rented in her name. There was no way that she was innocent. It was a murder that will haunt some people here for a while. My heart sank. I can't say that I feel sorry for her. I think that she deserves what she is going to get. I am sorry for her mother. Her mother is a great person with a heart of gold. I am very sorry for her children. The children were sitting right there when she murdered him. I finally understand why my step-mom had called me then.



In the end, I guess I do kinda regret admitting to her crime back then. Maybe that would have changed her. Maybe she would never have done this. Although, I do know that her crime then, changed who I am now. It's just that no one ever expects to see someone they once loved being convicted of murder.

Many people have asked what it's like to be a donor. How do you give? Energy or blood? What does it feel like? How do you know who to give to and who not to? Where would you find a feeder?

Many of these questions are easily answered. Few are harder. I guess I should start at the beginning. At first, I never looked for someone to give to. I lived in New Orleans at that time and finding a feeder was as simple as walking down the street. The hard part was deciding on who was to feed off me. I knew that I should be careful with whom I allowed to feed. So attention to detail became a large part of my life. I wanted to know who they were, where they had been, and where they would go afterwards. I became a stalker in a way.

Later you begin to find the safe ways to give and the least noticeable ways. You wouldn't want just everyone seeing this act or seeing the after marks of it. I've learned that a razor or a lance is the easiest and safest way to give blood. Never leaving scars in areas of notice. The shoulder or chest is good for hiding small razor cuts. Fingertips are perfect for lances and are even easy to disguise in public. Not an uncommon site for someone to suck on a finger.

I prefer to give blood, but will give psy if opportunity presents itself. To me, blood is a more personal and sensual experience. It's like becoming one with the other individual involved. Also in my experience, giving energy has become more and more dangerous. Most psy vamps now have little self-control when things get to be too hard to handle.

All in all, being a donor is a lifestyle that I love. We all take the good with the bad and, in my case, the good outweighs the bad. I love the feeling of giving myself so fully that there is almost no turning back. Some people think that at that moment, a vamp has total dominance over them, but I believe that I am the dominate one then. I know because I see the want they have for me in their eyes.

Sometimes I wonder if I was ever good enough for you. One day, I'm the most important person to you, the next I'm just another soul. I spin around hoping to understand why, but I've become to distant to continue. You words used to flow so softly from your lips. Now the lingering taste of them stings my tongue. I can't force you to want me. I can't force you to care. But I won't be forced to follow along like a lost puppy for too much longer. You have me by a string, either cut it or pull me up to you. These are my wishes, these are my hopes. Slave I may be, but servant I am not.

There are many moments in my life that I continually want to remember what has happened. My fourth birthday I remember to a tee. The day my grandfather died I can see in full light. The first time I kissed a girl. The last time I kissed my mother. Then there are times where my memory just blacks things out. We all have this problem, yet I know that there are certain things I want to remember all the time. The time we first spoke. The time we shared laughs. These things I will remember for a long time. If we ever speak again, just remember that I will remember it and cherish it in my soul.

As I sit here in this bed, I realize just how lonely I am. I spent the past two years with someone lying next to me. Waking up to see her face each and every morning. Curling up on the nights when it was cold. Today I woke up and thought someone was here with me, but no one was around. As hard as I try, I can't shake the thought that I'm destined to be alone. I hope that somewhere there is someone for me, but lately I begin to wonder. It has been nine months since she has gone. I miss her a lot, but I knew we would never make it. Now I live this waking dream of someone reaching out to me and actually touching my heart... ...even the sickest of us have feelings.