The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

I updated my C.V but the printer isn't working. Thinking about it, it's like a metaphor for my life. I'm a confused mass of information and feelings without an outlet. No colours. Not even black ink. I couldn't use them even they were an option. The printer does not want to switch on. The little red light at its side is not even beeping. No sound. Nothing.



nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing



Just a piece of senseless nerves lying around like so much trash. Switch the pc off, and it will be gone forever, without anyone having seen it.



Butterflies live for only fourteen days. Their life is brief but full. Their life cycle is so plentiful, so frenetically energetic, that it is done by the 14th day.



Mine needs millions of years... and it would hardly have started.



I am accused of being insensible and self-centred... well, what else have I got to centre myself on?

Some people can't live without having somone on a pedestal. When that individual falls from the pedestal, they simply find someone to replace him. Pedestals are a kill-off. They are up there, shiny and unreachable, perfect and unapproachable... and totally false. No one is perfect. No one is THAT unreachable... but... unfortunately, though my mind knows that, my heart does not.



The worst thing is, that the less I see a person, the more I end up deifying them. As if their absence created good points which never existed. And also end up forgotting all the bad points or dismissing them. Bleh.



Once on a pedestal, that's it. No relationship is possible, because idols cannot be touched... emotionally or otherwise. And when THAT is surmounted... well, they are no longer idols... so the whole thing is meaningless.. and I try to find another person for the pedestal...



How is it that thoughI'm aware of this stupid behaviour, I still cannot help but do it?

Certain souls live in the dark. Cherishing the nihilistic dream of nothingness. Praying for the void.



Without a compass. Without a balance. Unneeding of anything but the shadowlands of non-existence.



Wishing for soothing rain to mirror the tears in their hands, they crush withered flowers and trod unseeing upon forgotten dreams.



They touch. They influence. They destroy. All without volition. All without interest. All without feeling.



Cold and passionless, they search for something... something... to make them bleed once more. But the sluggish river is frozen, it is too late. Nothing breaches the facade of life, and the mask of normality hardens into an unquenchable pain...



And so this, THIS is what you want to categorize and label? This stupid mass of confusion and lies?



Your shouts do not even shuffle the leaves of the forest around my tower.