"Interview With A Vampire"-Anne Rice

Tell me, is it better to have loved and lost than to have not loved at all?

Or perhaps, is it better to have lost a love without attaining the love at all?

Either way, Anne Rice's "Interview With A Vampire" has touched a part of my soul that I believed deadened from emotion for so long.

What Louis went through....

All his pain, his suffering...

His unattainable love....

How much more like him I am than I ever imagined.

In a sense, I was once very much like Louis. I lived my days in confusion, not knowing who I was and why I did the things I did. One could say I was a vampire of equal caliber to Louis. But I feed not off of blood.

I feed of the happiness of others.

Truth be told, actual happiness has been void in my life. I have never truly known it. I once knew what I believed was happiness and love, but it was an illusion cast by my ever lonely mind. I have known amusement, joy, even silliness. But happiness?

No.

I've never know truly just who I am. The periods where Louis would sit and stare at something for hours on end are similar to something I do. But I do not think of only that thing. I think of all the things that have happened in my life. I can remember back to my infant days. (Yes, a rare thing to find, but I possess it).

Most of my life I spent more or less as an outcast. I've never really fit in anywhere. I've never been a jock. I've never been a prep. In fact, I don't really fit into goth, emo, metalhead, punk, or any other group that someone could name. I don't have a label.

Even "Freak" doesn't apply to me anymore.

I realize this is more than evident in my manner of speaking. Erratic and ecentric. I jump from one topic to another with such rapidness that at times I can confuse even the most intelligant of people. My own pattern of behavior and speech baffles even myself sometimes. At times, I could be as hyper and active as a child at play, then moments later I am deep in thought and nearly unresponsive.

Yes, I have analyzed my own behavior. I can see it in my companions eyes as well.

Ah, my companions. How precious they are to me, they'll never know. I would have long ago dipped into insanity had they not been there for me. "Why do you say that?", one might ask. Well, to put in simple, I crave one thing:

Companionship.

I cannot stand to be alone. If I'm alone, I begin to think. And when I REALLY begin to think, I lose all contact with reality and life. It is not something I can really explain. My nights are mostly restless because I will drift into thought sooner than I will drift into sleep.

And I think of everything humanly possible.

Things I could do, things that I could have dones, things that will never become true. From telling one of my closest friends that I have been in (actual) love with her since the day we met to telling my mother how much I despise how she acts and goes about her life to scences from movies that could have been written better to plots I could put into my own story, I think of it all.

But fortunatly, the actions of the day dictates my manner of thought for the day. And since most of my days are "Bleh", most of my thoughts tend to have the same effect on me.

The feelings that Louis possess are kin to my own. His actions, more often than not, are kin to my own as well. And it frightens me. My own actions in the past left me to feel as if I too were the spawn of the Devil. And I regret those days every day of my life.

But one could say that I have entered the latest stage in Louis's life, but more early. Apathy (that is, lack of emotion) apparently has become common in my behavior, according to my comrades. But beneath this layer of impassive acknowledgement of life is an inner struggle of my own innate wrath, my everlasting sorow, and an untapped basin of love.

The wrath, I suppose, could have orginated with that fact that I've never found where I belong. Struggle as I did, I never fit in anywhere. Not even with the people more similar to me than anyone. I never recieved any positive attention as a child as well. More like "I don't care, go away" attention. And at a young age, something like that leaves scars on the soul. Now, I moreorless just drift to groups, according to my mood. Cursed as a wanderer, that I am.

Sorrow. Ah, woeful sorrow. Ever apparent in my eyes, I'm told. That undying longing to have the happiness that others possess. But I do not let my sorrow reflect on my manner. I will never openly show my jealously toward someone who won the heart of someone I loved. Yes, sadness will be evident, but not spoken of. It is just the manner in which I do things. Truth be told, only four of my closest friends five of my closest friends have ever witnessed this. And I am thankful they speak of it to no one.

As for love: well, I'm rather inexperienced when it comes to love. I only have loved (as in told her that I loved her and she loved me back) one girl in my life, but I have come to realize that perhaps it was just fascination that someone could possibly be interested in me. But the love I have for my friends gives me strength to tackle any challenge to defend them. They know how I truly feel on the inside. I would give my life for any one of them, as they would me. It's hard to find friends like that these days. I'm very fortunate to have them. But I desire something more than friendly love....

Now that I have dwelled upon my own words, they ring more true of Louis's own than I thought at first. At times, I feel the need to just sit down and have a good cry. Other times, the need to just occupy myself with some sort of mindless activity, like eating or playing games.

These are my own words. My truth. My own feelings.

And I shall not shun who I am.

This is me.

Now, I just have to learn to accept that.

"I cracked my head and broke my heart." -Hurt

Why does life have to be so damned complicated?
April 22nd, 2008 at 03:21am