It was years ago, years, almost to the point that I can't remember. My fascination was always overwhelming, a bit too much, over the top, they'd say. I had barely seen many vampire movies or even had the idea of researching. I was young.
I was told then, at that young age, that there is something about me. Something, she said, that she can not yet tell me about, yet that when I awaken to it, she would be there for me. She felt it, even in a youngster, such as me, walking around in overalls and staring into her eyes. She saw it there, in my eyes, felt it from the energy I gave. I didn't think about it for years after she left...until...I woke up.
No, I don't dress in all black, nor am I pale white and running around chasing anyone just to feed from their blood energy. That, my friends, is the movies. This...is real.
She came back, a few weeks after I awoke, she said she knew it was time. She and I hadn't spoke in years. Then, as if my soul was crying out to her for help, she appeared again in my life. Sitting there on the big rock near the edge of the woods where "we" always hung out. She had friends with her this time. I had never seen them, but they welcomed me. Comforted me. Taught me. Helped me. Assured me. They would always be there until I no longer needed them.
The sun does not kill me, but it's uncomfortable. I love garlic. I can wear a cross, although it took me years to be able to endure the pain I felt when placing it around my neck. I can hear what others cannot. I can see what others cannot. I can feel what others aren't even aware of. Sometimes it gets to be too much, sometimes it's not enough. Either way, it is what it is...and I say to you...I am.
I have a hunger different from many. Yes, I like hot dogs and pizza, especially pizza, and chicken and cheez-its, those satisfy my stomach, my taste buds, my ability to survive. Yet, there's another hunger, deeper inside, that drives my mind and soul mad...for energy. Blood, life-energy, whatever I can draw from you that cannot be eaten, digested, shat out. It's a craving unlike that of a drug, while it's still quite intense, it will not kill me. It will only leave me tired, lazy, craving without the energy to help myself.
I feed through touch. Sometimes simple, often sexual. While you're being pleasured, I'm taking more than just your sweet juices. While I'm looking into your eyes, I'm taking more than your attention. When I hold you, I'm taking more than you submission.
Do I live in a mansion dimly lit with sconces lined throughout? I wish the hell I did, that would be so erotically eccentric to live in a place like that. Yet, alas, I live in a little house like you'd see on some old t.v show, with a yard, a mail box, a wind sock blowing around the front porch just above the tacky welcome mat. Do I have fangs? No. I bite, but I don't have fangs. I draw blood with a small razor attached to a pinkie ring, made for such bloodletting tasks. I am human. I am alive. Dead blood does not flow through these veins. Darkness does not invade my heart or mind, only dark memories of times when...