The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

All I Did Was Ask
17:11 May 31 2013
Times Read: 712

In June, 2009, I was working, not at my current job, but through a temp agency. The last job I had there, I was on a crew cleaning schools. The last few days, we cleaned a high school. We cleaned a lot of lockers!



The final day on that assignment, someone had a breakfast buffet, which consisted of things like bagels and fruit. Because we were working there, albeit temporarily, we were invited to have some. When we got our break, we each ended up getting something. After having our break, I ended up talking to a young man who was on our crew-he was twenty-three or maybe twenty-four. It came out during our conversation that that was the only thing he'd had to eat in three days. I asked him why, and he told me that he and his roommates had quit their jobs and moved from Galveston, Texas after being promised jobs here. When they got here, they were told there were no jobs. They were doing the best they could, but all the money they had was going to rent and utilities.



At some point, we were passing through the cafeteria, and we noticed that there was still quite a bit of food left. He said something about how it was too bad he couldn't have some of it to take home. I said to him that he should ask, but I think that he was just too embarrassed. I saw a woman by the tables who looked like she was putting things away, so I went over to talk to her. The young man stayed behind and watched.



I approached her and asked if I could speak to her for a moment. She said yes, and I asked what they were going to do with all the leftover food. She told me anyone was free to take what they wanted, and that some of it would also be thrown away. At that time, I indicated the young man standing across the room. I said that he had just told me that he hadn't had anything to eat for three days, until today, and that I understood if she couldn't, but would it be possible for him to get some of this to take home. She looked to him and back to me quickly, and said something like "You're asking for him?" I think the unspoken part was "Not for yourself? And she seemed surprised. I said something like, "I think he's too embarrassed, but I thought it wouldn't hurt to ask." She said, "Sure. I'll leave some things for him here on this table. Just tell him that he can pick it up before he leaves." I thanked her and went over and told him.



He was shocked. "Really?" He asked. "That's great!" Then he became more talkative, and as we worked I came to find out that he was a college graduate who had majored in music, and that he was a composer. He said he'd recently had a possible job lined up to write music for a new Nintendo game that would be coming out at some point, but he didn't know when. He was much more cheerful, and talked and joked with the rest of us more.



At the end of our workday, I walked with him and another of the crew to the door, and on the way, I indicated the table where the woman had left food for him. We were both surprised by how much it was! His entire face lit up, and he smiled a huge smile.

He said, "My roommates will be so happy. None of us has had anything for awhile. This should last a couple days, at least."

Then he and the other worker, who was giving him a ride to the office so that he could pick up his paycheck, left. I walked to my car, got in, sat down, and closed the door. At that moment, I was so happy, that I actually started to laugh. Then I cried. This was, for me, the best day that week. My feet had blisters and ached, my back hurt, and I was limping, but it was still the best day ever. I had made someone else happy.



I know his name, though I won't post it here. If I ever see it in connection with the music for a video game, I'll remember. And I know I'll smile.



He taught me something that day. Sometimes it's easier to ask for someone else than it is for yourself, and sometimes, when you feel down and alone, and you're hurting, helping someone else can make it better.



When you act with kindness towards others, you are kind to yourself.

Unable to Move
03:13 May 31 2013
Times Read: 736

When I was about seven years old, I was playing in the playground of our apartment complex with my friend, Chris, and his two little sisters. There was this piece of equipment that consisted of a vertical pole with closed loops at various heights attached all around the pole. We climbed from loop to loop, until we got to the lower ones. We bent backwards under these. On the lowest one, we had to get on our knees and bend all the way back until our backs brushed the ground to get under it.



My three friends went first. When it was my turn, I became stuck. I had cleared the bar with no problem, but when I came out the other side, I couldn't unbend my knees. They seemed to have slipped out of joint or something. It wasn't painful until I tried to straighten my legs.



My friends, afraid of what was happening, ran back to their building.



I lay there thinking, "They'll be back. They probably went to get their mom."

Then I lay there awhile longer, staring up at the blue sky and wondering how long I should wait before I tried to leave. I kept trying to unbend my legs, but only received pain for my efforts, so I kept thinking. I realized that I would probably have to figure out how to drag my body across the playground and across the asphalt of the parking lot, and up the stairs to the front door of our building. I knew, if I did this, I'd rip some skin off my legs, and probably my arms too, and that I'd be vulnerable to getting hit by a car.

So I lay there.

I was actually very calm, just staring up at the sky and trying to decide how long I should wait, and whether I should try calling for help, since I was pretty sure no one would hear me inside the buildings.

Then a woman wearing a white nurse's uniform came into the playground area and sat on a bench about ten feet away, where she started to read a book. After about ten minutes, she asked, with a German accent, "Are you all right? Do you need some help?" At which time, I answered. "Yes, please, that would be nice."

She came over, picked me up, and carried me home. My mom thanked her, but when she left, my mother berated me for doing this.

I hadn't done it on purpose, and I didn't know it would happen.

My mom put a heating pad on my legs, and after awhile, I was able to straighten my legs without pain, although I was shaky and unsteady once I finally stood. This was the first time I discovered this problem with my knees, and although they would do this a few times after this, I eventually figured out how to stop it from happening.

04:44 May 30 2013
Times Read: 742




When I was six years old, or possibly seven, I had a very bad nightmare. At the time, I slept on a mattress on the floor of my bedroom. I had a radio on the floor next to the mattress, which my stepfather had either loaned to me, or given to me.

In the dream, I was on my mattress when dozens, maybe hundreds, of rats came from everywhere. It was like a flood surrounding me, and I was terrified. When they started getting up onto the radio, I woke up.

With my heart beating frantically in my chest, and shaking, I looked around the room, saw there were no rats, and quickly went to my mother's room.

I walked as quietly as I could, breathing rapidly, and still very much afraid, up to the bed.

I stood there breathing, and listened to the sound of my mother breathing.

I so wanted comfort from her. I so wanted to reach out to wake her. But I just stood there, breathing and shaking.

I found myself unable to even try to wake her, for fear of the consequences.

I stepped backwards three steps, turned, and quickly went back to my room, where I got back into bed and stayed awake until morning.



My mother scared me more than my nightmare.

Once Again
22:48 May 27 2013
Times Read: 771

I feel as if I'm living something over again- not a past life, but the past of this life. And things that I had hidden, it seems, some can still see. Things I haven't thought of in a long time. Things I hadn't realized I was hiding.



Every time I think I know myself, I discover yet another thing to examine and explain. I think I'm being honest with myself, but then I remember, and my reality, or my perception of it, shifts.

Here's Looking at You,Foot
02:52 May 23 2013
Times Read: 813

Strange Day
04:31 May 22 2013
Times Read: 829

I've had an off day. I felt as if I was lagging behind myself today. And I made some strange mistakes. I started to get a customer a plastic salad bag, but then realized he didn't have a salad, so I put his order in a paper bag. When I gave him the order, he asked for a plastic bag. I creeped myself out a little. My mom said she would sometimes have whole days where she would get something for a customer which ended up being what the next customer in line wanted. Am I becoming my mother? No, no, please no!

I Say Who I Am
08:10 May 20 2013
Times Read: 840

I had a long conversation with my friend, Lisa, today. It was about my frustration with my relationship with my cousin, and other family members. She reminded me of something that I need to keep in mind.

I know myself better than anyone else does. I tell myself who I am. If I come from that place of strength, then whatever anyone else says does not matter. I am too used to falling into old bad habits when it comes to what to believe about myself or say to myself. Too often, the negative things my family says stick to me. And I let them. Because I want their love,and I want a connection with them.

You can love someone without internalizing their view of you.

They Will Never Know Me
03:52 May 15 2013
Times Read: 873

I got back in touch with my cousin, Cynthia, in 2008. My mom had died in 2007, and I guess that I was longing for more of a family connection than just talking occasionally by phone to my half brother, Bobby, who talked only of the video game he was playing, and his various physical ailments.

Over the years, I actually had developed some kind of relationship with my mother, which consisted of long distance conversations, which were usually daily. I had come to the conclusion, at some point, that I could not talk to my mother about certain things, and that I would never truly get from her what I had needed in childhood. That window had closed. But I decided to accept what she was willing to give, and to try not to expect too much from her- including being truly seen and accepted.

At first, I had fun talking to my cousin and reminiscing, but after a while, I noticed that she was very rigid and unaccepting of some differences in people. If you didn't say or do something the way she would, there was something wrong with you. In spite of the difficulty navigating the minefield of her pet peeves, I managed to be flexible enough to accept her as she was. Unfortunately, she has not afforded me that same courtesy. She simply does not understand how I think, or what motivates me. When I try to explain, she is dismissive. She simply refuses to try to understand me in order to better relate to me.

I might have saved myself some heartache if I had just let her go, but my friends all had families, and sometimes I would go days or even weeks speaking to and seeing no one except for strangers in public places.

I have been having financial difficulty and have been worried about losing my house for a while now. I never should have told her. She had a suggestion for me, which I did not immediately take, and she ended up exploding.

She said something like, "You have to do something! We don't want you, uncle Bryan doesn't want you, Bobby probably doesn't want you there, either! Nobody wants you! You have to do something!"

That ripped my heart out. I already knew my family didn't want me. That was why I left at the age of ten. I didn't need to hear it. I hadn't given a single serious thought to moving in with any of them, and if I had I would have rejected the idea immediately given my history with this family.

I just felt like an idiot. Why do I keep going back for more? Why?

More recently, my cousin offered to put my phone on her family share plan and to pay for internet as well. I should have said no, but the money I save means that I don't have to go without eating as often, and having internet access at home gives me more opportunity to apply for jobs so that I might be able to find one better than my current job, which is less than adequate, to say the least. Hope dies a slow and painful death. I hope to get more hours at work, I hope to get a better job, and I hope that my cousin will stop being cruel, but all I've done is given her ammunition, I'm afraid.

A few days ago, she told me to expect an email from her soon. She said she hadn't written it yet, but that she "had some things to say to me" and that she "didn't want to leave anything out".

That sounds ominous to me, knowing her.

That's what I don't understand. Why did I accept her help? I could've done without. I'd been doing without for years. I guess the problem is, again, that I hoped.

I guess I need to stop that nasty habit, at least where it concerns my family.

They'll never truly see me. They'll never truly know me.

Family
02:59 May 14 2013
Times Read: 886

How do I say this?



When I was ten, I left my mother. She had been a raging alcoholic for years, and for three summers- when I was eight, nine, and ten- I got to visit my grandparents (my father's parents) in another state.

Previous to my last summer visit (probably for several months, maybe even a year) my mom kept saying she might have to put me in a foster home. I had a friend who lived in the same apartment complex who told me what it had been like for her, and I was terrified. Right before I left for my summer vacation, my mom mentioned it again. I told my grandparents and asked them if I could live with them, if my mom was serious. They said yes, but I asked them not to tell her, because I'd rather stay with her if I could. They agreed.

When I got home, it wasn't too long before my mom had a fight with her boyfriend (we were living in his house at the time) and she decided we (she, my half-brother, and I ) all needed to leave immediately. In the middle of the night. We ended up sleeping in the car (an old Rambler) in a parking lot somewhere between where we left and my aunt's place. My brother left sometime during the night to walk the rest of the way.

So we moved in. There were six of us living in a one bedroom apartment. My mom mentioned foster care again.

I said, "I've already taken care of it, mom. I told Grandma and Grandpa what was happening, and they that said I could go live with them."

She said,"If that's what you want, then make the call."

So I picked up our old, heavy, black rotary telephone and dialed the long-distance number. I had dialed them collect on numerous occasions when I was at the pier feeling alone and in need of someone to talk to, so I had memorized it long before. I told them what was going on, then I handed the phone to my mother. My father, who was living in a different city at the time, paid for the ticket.

Not long thereafter, my mother took me to LAX, I got on the plane by myself, and I landed at Stapleton, where I was met by my grandparents.

I didn't see my mother again for seven years.

Strange Dream
04:47 May 09 2013
Times Read: 900

The other morning I dreamt about a group of teenagers with pastel-dyed hair riding white horses through a trailer park.

They called out 'come with us!" and I immediately thought, "Come to candy mountain, Charlie!" So I said,"No way!" and woke up. After all, I didn't want them taking my friggin' kidney!