Dear Diary,
A flash of hope in a sea of despair. After work yesterday, I ran into the photographer I mentioned before [Lacrimosa is her name; I don’t know if this is her real name, much like an Obsidian situation, but I digress.]. She must’ve noticed my limp mood because she grabbed me by the arm and forced me to follow her. I must say, I was not thrilled by this, but somehow, my body did not catch up with my mind and allowed my legs to move to her beck and call.
She was chatty the way there. She has a thick accent that denotes she was raised here, or at least very close, mixed in with an effect that makes it clear she’s been smoking for way too long (do I sound like that…? Obsidian doesn’t smoke, but I think they’d say something. They did say my voice was ‘husky’ once… But N said that too, and I didn’t smoke then.) She didn’t mind my little interaction; I do not know if this is just the way of true “city folk” or what (thinking yet again of Obsidian…)
We walked into a club together and she located Lucien immediately. He welcomed me, warm as ever. Today he was sitting with someone who looked like they were half asleep (another vampire…? They were insanely attractive to me… Man, even more than Lucien…). I told Lucien I just got done with work and he invited me to sit down next to this stranger who they introduced as Ligea. They asked me if I had heard of them, which I didn’t. Lacrimosa said something along the lines of “he’s too young to know” (Perhaps this transcription is wrong; as it was a club, the music was loud).
Ligea didn’t pay me much mind. In a way, I wondered if they thought they were too good for me or what… But I also wanted to know more, especially with that introduction. After a few minutes of them talking (and Ligeia and I in silence), I decided I wanted to dance. Lucien noticed and he grabbed my hands to dance with me. It felt divine in that moment…
In that moment only, full stop. Because what happened next ruined the feeling of elation I was beginning to feel.
Even over the music, I could hear that horrible screeching. I could probably recognize that shrill voice in my nightmares at this point. Obsidian, of course, stomping over and screaming some nonsense. I didn’t even have time to react as Obsidian pulled out one of their extensions and limply tried attacking Lucien with it. I don’t even think it hurt– it just seemed embarrassing (for Obsidian, of course).
Security had to be called. It all feels like a blur. We stayed at the club for a bit longer but ended up leaving less than an hour later.
I left with Lucien and co. I did notice Lacrimosa had to somewhat carry Ligeia out of the club (Perhaps my previous judgements were wrong; I wondered if they were just fucked up from some substance or another.) Lucien seemed to act like nothing was wrong… It felt surreal.
I had to ask him.
“Are you hurt or anything?”
“No, of course not.” He said with a smile.
I didn’t even know where I was following them to. I felt like a lost puppy. I didn’t want to go home, and they must’ve felt that too.
We left the city to go to the suburbs. It was there I found out where they lived; some big gothic mansion. It sounds so stereotypical, but I was swoonifixed it up. Going inside, it wasn’t just thong. Lucien had mentioned he had lived there for decades and se three who lived there, it seemed to be a whole nest of vampiric activity. People greeted Lucien like he was a messiah who had graced their presence. He did a wave like he was Princess Diana and we walked into the kitchen.
The kitchen was small compared to the rest of the large estate; it was more of a galley kitchen (For vampires I guess this doesn’t matter, but for home design, it seems like a waste…). To my surprise, Lucien opened the fridge, revealing bottles and bottles of blood. I don’t know where he got them from, but he handed me one.
I don’t think I ever had that much blood at once. I don’t even know how you can. He told me not to worry, it was “ethically sourced”. He had told me before that he's against harming humans, so I believed him.
He asked me if I wanted to be part of the coven. He told me I didn’t have to live there and in fact, it doesn’t mean so much but told me I would be taken care of. I was in a bit of disbelief over such a thing existing here. I think I abandoned all inhibitions and finally asked him how he was able to do this.
He told me plainly the following: He knows a lot of humans who were very excited to be let into a vampire’s den and willingly offer blood to be part of it. He told me he’s been operating like this for over a century. He said he could realize I was recently turned and felt bad for me having to fend for myself.
I agreed. I wanted to be part of this. I wanted to fit into this group. I stayed the night there. No tawdry occurrences went on (sigh…). In fact, the guest room I stayed in had many coffins in it. I wondered just how many people lived here. I could probably count at least 15 different people I saw.
I didn’t realize such a thing existed so close to me…
I found community. I found peace.
I don’t want to deal with Obsidian again and it seems as though I don’t have to.
Dear Diary,
I let myself rot in bed too long. I called out of work for days. Obsidian sent me hate mail on main (I know it was them by their stupid typing style). All I wanted to do was lie face down and listen to Christian Death.
Somehow I let myself go see Obsidian again. It didn’t feel the same. I felt numb seeing them. I didn’t even want to be there. I don’t know why I went. Affection? No, I felt repulsed because I kept thinking of them tearing up that picture.
Honestly, all I feel like doing is stopping drinking blood and letting my immortal body decay for some cleaner to find.
It’s not fair to Rozz and Eva. I must go on despite my body being so tired… Sigh…
Dear Diary,
Obsidian came over today. Words can not describe my loathsome emotions towards them right now. Alas, I feel the urge to document my life, so I will write down the series of events that lead up to such a mood.
They came over to my dwelling. At first, it was fine. They were very touchy-feely and I wasn’t quite in the mood. Perhaps it’s because I keep thinking about Lucien and co. I really enjoy their company… However, I have not been able to successfully invite Lucien over to my place still Sigh… I don’t know why I feel so nervous. Perhaps because he seems so worldly and I’m afraid I’ll ruin things. I feel again as if I’m in a new layer of hell; Where do N and Obsidian fit in this narrative? I’m not quite sure. However, it seems as though my reckless emotions fit me perfectly somewhere in the 2nd layer of hell. An Odyssey of stupid decisions because of my own insecurity… Sigh…
Back to what I was saying; Obsidian must’ve noticed my dour mood because they made a fuss about me not reciprocating their affection. This all led to a fight and I got angry because I felt that’s all I was to them: some sort of doll they could get their affection out on without engaging with another human’s (or vampire in this case, I suppose…) thoughts and feelings.
Obsidian of course did not react well to my anger. They kicked the desk Eva was on and nearly knocked her over. They of course blamed me for their anger and I had to stop myself from attacking them on the spot. They then grabbed a picture I had strewn up of me and N and tore it up.
I don't even remember them leaving. All I remember doing is crying and crying. I wanted to go see N. Why does he have to be train hopping god knows where? Why couldn’t he just come to the city with me?
I wanted to do makeup. I’m not even in college anymore. I guess it is all my fault. I wasted that time and now I’m just working at some shitty haunted attraction. I should’ve gone with him. God, I should’ve…
It’s too late now to call him up and ask him. I turned into a creature of the night– again, a stupid decision it seems– so it’s not like I can live the way he does now in the light.
FML.
Dear Diary,
I have to admit, I’ve perhaps been in the wrong lately. I’ve ignored Obsidian. Well... Perhaps ignored is too strong of a word; We’ve hung out this week, but I guess I’ve made them jealous. And that kind of makes me happy in a sick way. However, I’ve really been enjoying my time away from them and with Lucien and his friends.
Most of the people he hangs around with are vampires. They all know Obsidian– I guess they’re more of a local celebrity than I thought. Lucien told me that they’ve always been like this, despite his best attempts to become friends with them.
I find myself having fun. In fact, a lot of fun. It’s not like with Obsidian where there are high peaks and very low valleys– it’s all been fun. Everyone is welcoming, even some of the more gruff people I’ve encountered (One of Lucien’s best friends, a photographer, is very blunt, but she’s been very sweet to me and told me I should model for her.)
I have come to have a bit of anxiety on the idea of my worlds colliding– I don’t necessarily want to pick between Obsidian and these new people. I mean, they might be a dickhead, but I do enjoy our time together. I kind of feel bad for them. Perhaps I have come on a sacred cosmic mission to mend these lines. Perhaps if I just talked to Obsidian they would see that Lucien and co. are actually very sweet people and we could all be friends.
That all being said, Lucien doesn’t seem very responsive to any sort of advances I make at him. Granted, these advances have been subtle, and I have not stated anything outright. Perhaps it’s selfish of me, but I want him to want me like Obsidian wants me. I do feel that’s missing in this situation. I like how Obsidian keeps looking for me, even when I ignore their messages.
I did get kissed on the cheek by the aforementioned photographer. It didn’t feel like she was trying to do anything except be an older sister though; i.e., there was no romantic intention for this action. I did however post a picture of me on my main blog of this...
I wonder how Obsidian will react. I know they’ll see it.
Dear Diary,
I’m a bit tipsy while writing this. Pardon that.
I found that guy again– Lucien. It was an accident, I swear. I wasn;’t looking for him. I happened to go to a club where he was having an event– Yes, he’s some sort of club organizer I suppose. He remembered me. I felt my heart flutter in a strange way. He was very warm to me, actually, despite being surrounded by what I assume were his friends. He speaks in a French accent...
He asked me a lot about myself and really welcomed me, saying he was happy to see me again. I kind of wanted to ask about Obsidian, but I felt it would completely tank the party atmosphere. Oh, he is in fact a vampire, by the way. He called me a “baby bat”-- I guess he’s been one for quite some time, but I thought it’d be rude to ask, especially as we have just started striking up conversation.
He told me he lived outside the city and spoke about different promotions he oversaw. I told him I want to go to more events and he gave me this smile... I don’t know what it was, but it felt safe. It wasn’t safe like N, but it was warm like an old friend. He introduced me to other friends of his... He told me I was always welcome to come by his events or even his abode (scandalous...? I blush at the thought of what his words implied!)
I posted a picture at the club on my main blog but I made sure he wasn’t in it.
I wanted to stay there all night with them. I had so much fun. I really, really felt happy. I don’t think I’ve felt so happy in a long time. Lucien told me that he knows a lot of humans into vampires and they often come to his events. I bit a few different people. He said it seemed like I wasn’t getting enough blood in me. I bite people at my job but it’s not like I can drink them like they’re a Capri-sun. I think it got me drunk, though. I never got drunk before. Apologies...
He also helped me get home safe due to this. He didn’t stay or anything, but he told me to sleep well.
I should’ve invited him in. Maybe. I don’t know.
Dear Diary,
Today was an interesting day.
Obsidian and I spent most of the day together and... We didn’t end up fighting. That alone is cause to rejoice– we actually had fun together. We went to a thrift store and they didn’t even scream at anyone in there for being a “poser prep” (they did complain about me buying CDs and asked me if I used Limewire. To which I said, “Isn’t that like malware?” and they responded, “Yeah for babies but serious hackers know better and can defeat the malware.” I have to admit, I know very little about the inner workings of technology and hacking, so I can’t confirm nor deny these claims.)
However, something strange happened that did sour their mood. We were approached by this man– Blue wavy hair, goth. I guess Obsidian knew him and is not a fan of this man because they got into some sort of altercation, but the man held steady and introduced himself to me (I already have an “L” name...EDIT: I guess I already used his name before, his name is Lucien.). Anyway, he seemed actually really cool, I didn’t quite understand why Obsidian seemed so thorny about him. He gave me a card before walking off and I was able to take a quick glance at it before Obsidian grabbed it and threw it on the ground (twice. Yes, dear reader, they not only threw it down, but then picked it up and proceeded to do that again. I dare not ask why they felt in such a tizzy over it. )
Alas, me not asking led still to Obsidian ranting near incoherently about the man regardless. I’ll be honest. I wasn’t paying attention. I kind of was getting tired so I bid Obsidian farewell and headed off on my own. Obsidian seemed annoyed, but they did not cause a fuss over this.
I am wondering about that guy... He was kind of cute. I have the feeling he might’ve been a vampire too.
... I’ve actually kind of been thinking about him since then. I doubt he’s as bad as Obsidian was yelling about... I kind of want to talk to P about this, but I don’t know... Somehow, I feel a bit guilty thinking of this guy. I don’t even think I want anything romantic from him– he just seemed really cool and low stress (given the fact he seemed so cavalier as Obsidian screamed at him).
... Maybe he’s just as insane as Obsidian though, who knows.
Dear Diary,
I ended up going to that poetry reading.
I first messaged Obsidian to talk about them attacking my co-worker. They were annoying about it and tried to convince me I took things out of context. I doubt that’s the case. What context do you need for “This person tackled me and kicked my shin with their boots”? I do not think I need anymore. I doubt Obsidian is in the right but arguing with them is useless. I told my co-worker I’d make it up to them anyway I could. Lucky for me, I don’t pay rent nor need to drink and eat like a human would, so I do have some extra cash on hand to take them out later this week. (Not a date. Though, perhaps dating a normie would be better than whatever Obsidian and I are doing.)
Anyway, somehow the conversation veered to them talking nonstop about the poetry meet. I am not joking about the non-stop aspect; I went to look something up and came back 5 minutes later to over 40 messages.
I skimmed them and finally agreed to go with them to this poetry meet. I have to admit, I was curious of something– they said their “lifetime enemy” was there. I know they have arguments non-stop with people online, so I wondered who stood out from among the pack to get that oh-so coveted title...?
I got dressed and met up with them. They tried to makeout with me upon seeing me, but I still wasn’t in the mood. We did walk side-by-side to the venue; some cafe that reeked of pretension and black coffee.
I didn’t have to ask Obsidian who this “lifetime enemy” was. The second she walked in, I swear they started foaming at the mouth. She was there with who I am assuming is her brother (they both looked incredibly similar)-- black hair, fishnets, a band tee. She must’ve been a few years younger than me; In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if I found out she was still in highschool or something (It seems on-brand for Obsidian to have issue with a teenager). I don’t even know if she noticed Obsidian– she seemed in good spirits. Obsidian meanwhile was grumbling under their breath; I was surprised they didn’t lunge at her or anything though.
Obsidian went third. They recited some definitely original poetry. (I will not say more on this matter...). I did a small clap because I knew no one else would.
They stood next to me again and tried to be very touchy-feely, and it kind of pissed me off because I felt it was rude to the other poets who were going as they did this. To make matters worse, Obsidian audibly boo’d people who went on stage. I didn’t know if it was better to start making out with them to get them to finally shut up.
Obsidian’s enemy’s brother went upon the stage. He seemed just as jovial as his sister and recited some poetry. It wasn’t bad, but I could tell he had a Tumblr account too. (I’m not saying that to be mean or anything. Obviously here I am.)
However, this is where things truly went sour. Obsidian decided to start throwing paper balls (I don’t know where they had them– their outfit pockets?... Why did they pre-plan this...?) at him. He seemed a bit surprised by this. I felt so embarrassed by Obsidian I had to walk out. I couldn’t look at this poor kid get heckled by Obsidian of all people.
Obsidian found me around 10 minutes later. They obviously got hit in the face (deserved), but I don’t know by who. Obsidian grabbed the cigarette I was busy smoking and threw it on the ground, upset that I left them. I wasn’t in the mood, said something snarky back and then got out another cigarette.
“I needed you in there!!” Obsidian huffed.
“I needed air.” I made sure to stand my ground. They started crying saying I didn’t understand. I kept my ground– they literally just yelled at this poor kid minding his business. They kept trying to make excuses for their behavior and it pissed me off. Eventually, they gave up... But we stood there in awkward silence as I finished my cigarette.
They then decided to invite me to their house.
For some inexplicable reason, I said yes. Maybe smoking is actually bad for me mentally.
There’s not much to say after this. We went to their place, made out...
But they must’ve felt bad about today because they invited me to sleep in their coffin. They specifically made room for me. It was a tight fit, but it did feel nice to have their arms around me...
There’s still hope. Perhaps.
Dear Diary,
Well, this has been sorted. Kind of.
I confronted Obsidian via messages to ask why the fuck they decided to attack my co-worker. They wrote back, “Because theyre a prep and I hate them!! BTW are u coming 2 the poetry meeting?” (That’s a more legible version of their text. It is hard to decipher as it is, I do not think I will make the reader of this strain further. Sigh.)
I was a bit stunned by their message. It’s not unexpected. They just did not care about the more pressing issue and instead were just concerned if I was coming to their dumb poetry reading. I was mad in the moment and typed back, “What the fuck do you think?”
“Fangx pal see u there”
What? Yes, that’s what they wrote. They took my message as meaning I was coming and excited to do so. I was incredulous. Here I was, ready to blow up at them, and they replied like that?
I felt like they hit checkmate. I wanted to reply, “You fucking idiot I hope you choke on your own blood”-- but I did not do this. Instead, I just sat there, thinking about this situation. Are they stupid? Do they possibly see me in such a positive light that they cannot fathom me being mad at them? Do they seriously think they’re not in the wrong?
I scrolled their blog– namely, their talk tag. They talk so fucking much, it usually clutters up my dash (my dash is 1 Peter Murphy picture to 20 of their rants by now. And I follow 421 people, by the way.)
Maybe this’ll get me to understand them.
However, they type so frantically and with such a warped vision of events. I can’t imagine they’re doing this all to make themselves look better. Do they think they’re in the right? Is this performance art?
... I may sound like I have gone insane, but I kind of admired it in a disgusting way. They were so free to talk about things, even when they sounded like an absolute dickhead. In the end, my head hurts too much from reading their horrible abuse of the English language. I think it’s effecting me. I’m going to bed.
Dear Diary,
I got home from the concert to find my room smashed up. FML.
I thought it might be Obsidian. In fact, I was 99% certain. My only hesitation is the fact they’d go out of their way to come here. However, nothing seems so out of place from what I can tell.
I just refreshed my dash on my laptop while writing this they fucking did it and they posted about it. What a fucking idiot. All of this is on the heels of getting a text from my co-worker that Obsidian attacked them.
Why do I find myself in this situation? I see why my parents wanted to raise me in a commune. I’ll write more later. I should deal with this.
Things I should be asking a therapist... Sigh...
I'm not google you idiot, but I'll respond anyway: No.
Dear Diary,
Obsidian fucking stole shit from me. I think it was just my one Cure shirt, but it still pissed me off. They also left without saying goodbye which... Man, what did I fucking expect? I felt like an idiot. I guess it’s the law of exchange cosmically– I get Obsidian being sweet, and they then have to be a dickhead. Whatever. I don’t have time to care about that right now.
I decided I needed a day trip. I want to visit my folks, but that’s hours away (I also can’t just leave my job for days or Eva and Rozz). So, instead, I decided to take a little trip just outside of the city. There was some concert I was mildly interested in, so I decided to go to that.
I don’t have much to complain about there, except one thing: I guess it felt kind of lonely to go by myself. It’s not like I’m someone who needs others– quite the opposite. Perhaps it’s the experience of growing up without a lot of other children, or perhaps always being around people in general and enjoying the change... But I actually felt a bit lonely. If this is because of Obsidian’s presence now in my life, I think that’s a sick joke. However, I guess I should be laughing because it kind of makes sense that’s the cause. As annoying as they are, they seemingly keep wanting to stick by me. I feel wanted by them. I don’t have to explain how pathetic and annoying that is to type.
I don’t know how to even quantify my feelings for Obsidian. I don’t think I can call this love like with N (I still would argue I haven’t fallen out of love with N still... Sigh...). However, it doesn’t feel the same as my friendship with P, or even my co-workers. I guess maybe we’re two fucked up people against the world. Maybe they’re my other half. Maybe I’m overthinking this whole thing. Maybe I just really want to be wanted by someone, even someone as annoying as that.
Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
All of this being said, I kind of ignored their messages. The concert took a lot out of me and I just wanted to have a good night sleep without being roped into their schemes. The whole thing ended later than I expected and I was worried about sunrise, so I checked into a hotel.
Tomorrow, back to the normal grind...
Dear Diary,
I dreaded today.
The peril started early, as I woke up in Obsidian’s lair. Not the worst thing, but they decided today to yet again pester me about my abode.
I don’t know why they’re so persistent. I asked them why and they seemed to earnestly consider us some sort of couple. Perhaps it warmed the cold cockles of my heart... Because I finally agreed after maybe around 5 minutes of deliberation.
We walked to my house. It was a bit of a distance, but surprisingly, walking is the one thing Obsidian does not seem to actively complain about. When we got to the theater I had called home, they seemed shocked. However, they didn’t react as weirdly as I expected (growth...? Doubt it. Things are not as simple as “”growth”” with them.).
We walked inside and up to my little “loft”. They seemed genuinely curious about things, and it was... Dare I even utter these words... Kind of cute. We ended up making out as per usual. However, they of course ruined the mood once they spotted some pictures of N and P. They fell back into their old ways, screaming and calling them poser preps. I tried to explain they were theater kids (N is goth too lol. I guess they didn’t even pay attention to his Joy Division shirt or something. Then again, I think they look for issues where there are none). Obsidian tore down a picture of N and I and seemed to be jealous over it. I told them he was my ex and they seemed happy, throwing it down (I put it back on the wall). (... Is it bad to say I kind of liked seeing them jealous?...)
Their mood got lighter after that, telling me I look like John Koviak in some of the photos. They kept throwing pictures down from the wall after looking at them... Which was very fucking annoying, but I didn’t want a fight to break out. They then proceeded to bother Eva and Rozz, but I made sure to sternly tell them not to. I think they still tried to while my back was turned, however.
They also tried to steal a few of my shirts. They did this unsubtly, balling them up and putting them in their bag. I had to yell at them and they got annoyed at me.
To defuse the situation, I offered to watch a movie with them. I thought it’d actually be kind of romantic to do together... N and I liked doing that (our first date involved watching My Bloody Valentine together...). I do realize how pathetic and like a teenager I sound fondly remembering such things. I guess it could be worse. We could’ve been more predictable and watched Friday the 13th together...
Anyway, Obsidian didn’t seem interested in any of the movies I tried to suggest. I let them ultimately pick because they started annoying me. I set up the projector and we went into what used to be the viewing room to watch the film. The seats aren’t very comfortable, but it works out (... and when playing movies like this, they look like dogshit. Sigh... I’ll find a better projector one day than the 10$ one I found on ebay...)
Obsidian wanted to make out again like 10 minutes into the film and well... I guess it didn’t matter what movie we watched. They recited some poetry to me (I’m guessing original work due to it’s... Vibe.)
I don’t know why I decided to write this on my vent blog. I guess it’s nice to have some moments of peace recorded here as well.
I had such bad anxiety when they asked about coming over, but it was all for not.
Dear Diary,
Yes, I realize I already posted tonight. However, the mess that is my immortal life keeps continuing and I need to vent it.
Obsidian came to my work.
Yes, to my fucking work.
I don’t know how they even found out where I worked– I never told them (I guess they figured it out from my posts... Probably somewhere advertised it in the past.). It doesn’t matter, because I found myself on top of them, biting their neck. However, once I saw the lime-green hair and heard the shrill shrieking, I knew immediately who it was.
To add to my embarrassment, I had to radio the manager to tell them about the situation. They were nice and understood the situation, saying it’d be fine to get them out safely. They also said if I needed to leave, it was fine (it was around 30 minutes until the end of my shift anyway). Thank god for the little things...
I escorted them out to one of the backstage rooms. They told me they thought this was my house– seriously? But they almost did seem sincere. Maybe they were that stupid. I changed my clothes and brought them out to the alley to the side, mainly so I could have a cigarette to calm down.
They asked if I was going to apologize for biting them. Why the fuck would I apologize, this is my job...? I scoffed at them and said whatever. I guess that calmed things, because they wanted to make out almost immediately after. Fine, whatever.
We were interrupted and they had to take a phone call. I didn’t care much, I was enjoying the smoke break. They were being dramatic even though I was trying to not pay attention to whatever drama they had going on. This was all for nought, as they decided I was going to accompany them to, get this: their parents house.
Yes, Obsidian, who told me their parents died, wanted me to go to their parents house to see their parents.
At this point, I was so tired and pissed off, I didn’t have the will to fight long against their claims their parents had died. However, curiosity got the best of me and I decided to accompany them.
We ended up talking on the way there about various things (None of which were about their apparently living relatives, mind you.). However, those conversations were not enough to prepare me for what I was walking into. Arriving at the abode, it was a normal row house, seated there for decades and showing some wear, but not enough to worry too much. We walked up to the door, and Obsidian decided the best way to knock was to kick the door. No, that’s not a joke.
Their mother came to the door. She was shockingly normal– just a woman in her mid-to-late 50s, big smile and happy to see her child, calling them an unfamiliar name. Obsidian did not greet her so pleasantly, stating their whole name (... is that a deadname...? Maybe that’s why they don’t talk? For obvious reasons, I will keep that private.)
Their mother turned her attention to me, greeting me. Obsidian spoke for me, saying I knew about a “McDonalds incident” (??). She seemed to ignore their harsh ways, probably used to it, inviting us inside. I think it was even stranger inside: They had a lot of family around, notably their grandma and even there were some children happily playing (Obsidian referred to them as their cousins later.)
Obsidian wanted me to sit on their lap and I was so shocked by the happy family scene before me, I didn’t even argue. I saw their dad as well– another very normal member of this family, happily receiving a peck on the cheek from Obsidian’s mom (to which Obsidian seemed very mad at– why the tension...? I shan't judge too harshly, I do not know the full familial set up).
Obsidian’s grandma was very friendly as well throughout my time there. She asked if I could eat (I guess they all know Obsidian is a vampire...?). We got invited to stay for the duration of dinner. I felt bad I couldn’t eat the food splayed out in front of us, especially because it did look delicious. Obsidian’s parents didn’t push the issue, so I think my suspicions of them knowing were true. Their little cousins' starry eyes were fixated on us and Obsidian was very cold to them, which was disappointing (they seemed like very sweet kids).
It seemed like Obsidian was the odd one out here. I don’t mean just from being a vampire... Their family was extremely lovely. I don’t know how they turned out that way.
Obsidian left mid-way through dinner, yelling at their family over nothing. Their parents were surprised they were leaving so soon. I thanked their parents for letting me inside and coming over as well, feeling like I was intruding on their happy night by virtue of being Obsidian’s guest.
I told Obsidian once we left my thoughts. They were pissed off, yelling obscenities again. We walked in silence back to their apartment.
Before we went to sleep, they did ask me about my family. I didn’t know how to describe them; They’re obviously not goth, but calling them preps would be wrong as well (Why I am trapped in these two categories of descriptions escapes me. Perhaps Obsidian’s influence is too strong). Obsidian didn’t seem happy with this answer and boiled it down to they must be preps.
Yet again, I sleep on the cold floor.
EDIT: I did ask Obsidian about the name their mother called them. When I asked if it was a dead name, they seemed confused. I tried to explain, but then they kept calling it a “living name” and that Obsidian was their dead name. I don’t quite understand the whole interaction myself, but I think at least it’s safe to assume Obsidian is definitely what to call them by regardless. I tried to dig in how being called that other name made them feel but they didn’t seem to care too much, instead going on a diatribe about preps again. (For an additional reference, their family did all seem to refer to them with the correct pronouns.)
Dear Diary,
Yesterday, I woke up to Obsidian joyous and content, but that did not last. Yet again, I find myself aware of the Samsara I am subject to swirl endlessly in.
As per the droll routine I have settled into, I had to go to my job. This in itself isn’t the most exciting thing (only truly messed up people enjoy going to work. I guess I should count myself lucky it’s not a 9-5 office job.) However, something innocuous started more drama than I anticipated.
One of my co-workers, who I have enjoyed the company of, hung out with me during break. Another one came by and said I looked really cool tonight– I dressed up a little more than usual, so I appreciated the compliment. Coworker 2 offered to take a picture of us, and of course, why would I refuse? So, I allowed it and I posted it onto my main blog.
Well, that was a mistake.
I had to focus on my job as a few different groups came through quite quickly. However, after the rush, I checked tumblr.
A message from Obsidian.
Scratch that, 26 messages from Obsidian.
They were all of a similar nature– some form of insult involving the words “poser”, “prep”, and quite often a combination of them. Also, a lot of crytyping (This has become commonplace). This was too headache-inducing to care about, so I queued stuff while I waited instead of dealing with them.
Once I got off work and headed home, I finally responded. I told them I was at work and then they told me to listen to Michael Bublé (I think? Their crytyping can get not only migraine-inducing, but confusing on it’s own as well). I didn’t feel like dealing with their insults, so I just sent something to blow them off. However, to my surprise, they sent an apology text (Maybe we’re getting somewhere?). I was so shocked by this gesture, I stopped in my tracks and leaned up against the building’s outer wall. They asked to hang out with me in another cemetery. I agreed and met up with them about a half an hour later.
Though they said they wanted to hang out in the cemetery, we ended up walking the streets together. We had some light conversation– mostly them talking in circles about their usual hatred of ‘poser preps’. We ended up kissing at one point, and Obsidian saw a couple down the street embracing as well and decided to leave me to go yell at them. However, this time, they did not chase them down and returned to me pretty quickly (little victories, little victories...).
We ended up going back to their place. Perhaps it’s some screwed up Stockholm Syndrome or something, but the more I go over, the more I get used to their little abode. I hope this is not a false sense of security and I become like Fortunato in the Catacombs... We ended up watching Nosferatu together from their coffin. I do enjoy the darkness of this cave-like atmosphere, it is most pleasant to watch movies from. They also tried to impress me with their dart throwing skills... However, even vampirism didn’t seem to affect their athletics, as they kept missing. At one point, I saw them pick up a dart and put it in, and they boasted to me like they had thrown it. Being polite and enjoying it in an ironic way, I clapped.
The night was overall nice. They ended up kicking me out of their coffin as per usual, but I’ve gotten accustomed to the floor (Maybe it’ll help my back? Do I have to worry about that now?).
However, this morning was less than joyous.
When I woke up, Obsidian was on the computer again– Tumblr, of course. We ended up sitting back in their coffin listening to music... Until that song came on.
I love Joy Division, I really do. They are my favorite band, actually... But ever since N, it's been hard to listen to Love Will Tear Us Apart specifically. It hurts to hear, and just depresses me. I asked Obsidian to switch the song, but they got pissy. Eventually, I had to confide the reason why (it was N’s favorite song, afterall... Our band together, as well...)
“Get over it??” Those words from their mouth stung. I wasn’t going to deal with them acting like that. I knew if I spoke to them, I would rip them to shreds, so it was better to silently exit. They called out to me as I left, but I didn’t care. Fuck them.
I headed back to my house. I have to go to work in 20. FML...
Dear Diary,
Today started off on a good foot, and perhaps it explains certain later behaviors. P and I had a conversation today. It was pleasant, she was telling me about some girl she and her roommate were both in love with (No, do not worry about some Victorian-esque duel for this woman’s hand. They have both said if the girl liked either of them, both of them, or neither back, they’d be cool with it. ) She seemed very happy, and it warmed my heart as well.
P was my first friend outside of the commune. We had the same English class and I guess she, unlike others who snickered at the sound, thought my name was quite “cute”. She introduced me to N as well (and once we got together, told us she’d promise to be the “crazy aunt if we had kids”.)
Either way, I did tell P about Obsidian (I guess I don’t need to obscure Obsidian’s name; I said it before... Plus, anyone in the area would probably know them by their antics rather than name I presume.) She was happy for me. It kind of made me think better about my own decisions.
Perhaps this is why I went out with Obsidian again. We went to a club together, and they decided to run off as it’s becoming common. I didn’t care, I was going to dance by myself and have fun. I don’t need them by my side all the time. However, they did end up running back to me– literally. They almost knocked me over and I had to hold out my arms to stop them from making both of us crash into the ground.
“Why are you running?” I asked them, trying to stay calm. However, this was for naught, as they just yelled, “What the fuck does it look like!”
I decided to say something back along the lines of, “It looks like you’re running.” Because... Honestly, what was I supposed to retort? They then went off about preps until I finally got them to leave with me because I didn’t want to get roped into their drama.
We ended up going to a cemetery and we sat on the grass together, hand in hand. This was much more peaceful– and maybe this was the salve to the issue between us. When they had outside factors weighing on them, they tended to be volatile. However, when it was just the two of us alone in this shitty, miserable world, it felt a lot lighter.
Obsidian pointed to a tombstone just ahead of us, declaring it was their parents' graves. I felt kind of struck by that and all I could do was apologize for their loss. Their candid nature kind of shocked me and it made me think of my own mortality. Their parents must not have been vampires (I must admit, aside from biting, I don’t know if vampires can have kids... I doubt it’s like in Twilight.) They went on telling me that they were goths– in their own strange way of combining different musicians together. I listened, unsure how to feel. On one hand, it was annoying... But that’s also kind of tacky to say outloud to someone who took you to their parents grave.
We ended up making out. I didn’t mind it per se– it’s not like it’s morally wrong to make out in a graveyard (I think...). It’s not like we caused any property damage.
No, wait, scratch that. Someone came into the cemetery and Obsidian started to throw grass at them. Obviously, I did not partake. The person ended up yelling at them for this and they got into an argument. I guess the person gave up, because they left still with a bouquet of flowers in hand.
After that, the whole vibe felt awkward and I wanted to go home. I told them this, and of course, they got mad and called me a “poser prep”-- their standard insult. I didn’t care, exhausted from the interaction. I was excited to get home and face-plant on my bed before the sun came up.
Once I got there, I think I felt a bit bad for leaving, especially after they showed me their parents grace. I decided to upload a picture of the two of us together to my main blog. There, that’ll show I still care for them.
Dear Diary,
When I awoke on that concrete floor, I decided it was time to take my leave. I just wanted to have a long drag in my own bed and some time alone before work. I got dressed and seemingly stirred Obsidian, as they woke up and got dressed as well.
I told them I was going home. They asked me where I lived and I skirted the question– I don’t feel like telling them my address and risk them bothering me there as well. They argued with me and told me that my house probably had mildew and rotted flooring– ironic, considering they’re squatting in a moldy basement.
I nearly tripped on my way out, but I didn’t really care to hear how they would continue to describe my living quarters. I took a clove cigarette out of my pocket– some were missing. I know it was them, but it wasn’t worth the energy to confront them, let alone go back to do so.
For most of my voyage, I could hear them screaming and yelling at people they were passing by on the street. At some point, they stopped following, but I could hear their noisy screeches from at least a block away. At least I got home without incident and without them discovering my dwelling.
Home. What a strange word. I don’t think I’d actually call any place I’ve rested my head a proper “home”, but alas, as any other way to describe it feels too explanatory to the odd stranger, it’s my easiest way of phrasing it. Currently, “home” was an abandoned movie theater. It seems to have gone under in the last 10 years or so, probably the rent is too high for anyone to seemingly afford it now. There’s no lights on, but I make due with what I can... Not to mention, candles make it all feel more atmospheric.
To be specific, my nesting grounds were in the old projector room. I’ve always loved movies, and it felt natural to be in such a space. My bed (one day, a coffin...) is just a mattress, but I have a small wardrobe to which my beloved Rozz (venus flytrap) and Eva (centipede) are on.
I finished my cigarette, laying on my bed and putting it out on the ashtray to the side. Another one took it’s place as I stared up at the ceiling, cracked from years of poor care (perhaps theres a metaphor to be had here...).
Silence. What a nice feeling.
However, my old habits got the best of me, and I found myself checking Tumblr. It was worth it to peruse Obsidian’s blog, I guess. Maybe I could gleam a thing or two of why they seem so dysfunctional. I saw them replying vitriolically to a anons asking innocuous questions. Then I saw their actual posts, claiming I was flirting with them. There’s no way in hell I’d go out of my way to try and make them like me.
In a moment of weakness, I sent them a message– “I saw your posts. FYI, I wasn’t flirting with you.”
It wasn’t long after that I got a reply where they said, “K, but I wuznt flirtin with u” (excuse the abuse of the English language– that is simply how they type.)
Replying was a losing game. I ended up laying in bed all day until it was time to go to work.
Work is miserable, but at least I don’t have to go out of my way to get blood and it’s a place to take a hot shower. Most of it is spent waiting in a coffin for the next group of people stupid enough to agree to get bitten by a stranger to pass by. If I didn’t have to listen for audio cues, I’d spend my time listening to Joy Division... However, I guess blogging on Tumblr is second best.
After around an hour at work, I got another message from Obsidian, asking if I was going clubbing. I didn’t want to answer, so I ignored it– queuing up things on my blood to make it look like I wasn’t online anymore. However, they were persistent and asked me if I was being stalked by some guy named Lucien.
I asked who that was.
Big mistake.
They went off on a 6-8 paragraph essay of who this guy was. Most of their comments were repeats past a certain point, and the rest was overall just nonsense. My impression was they had some sexual tension or something of the sort in the past given how much Obsidian mentioned his physical traits.
“Oh, okay.” What the fuck would anyone else write to all of that? They followed it up with another warning of not going near him, and again I replied “Okay.”
I ended up not going clubbing. I told Obsidian I was tired– not a lie. However, it wasn’t just from work, it was from the headache of the whole essay they wrote me on some guy I’m probably never going to encounter.
Dear Diary,
I think I’m damned. I think I have some heavy karma surrounding me. I think there’s a curse on my bloodline. Or, perhaps, I’m just lacking in intelligence to make good decisions. Perhaps I really do need to see a specialist, get on some anti-depressants or something of the sort.
It had been around a week since I last decided to go out for pleasure. I didn’t want to see them again, so I hesitated going clubbing. However, VampyreBytez was holding an event and I figured I should try and lift myself out of this depression. Wrong.
I was there for around 20 minutes when they found me (Maybe I should dye my hair...). They decided to be obnoxious right away, putting their hand above me on the wall, closing me in and saying, “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
Their words weren’t even flirty, it was more of a confrontation. God, why did I respond? And of all the things, I came out with: “Well, I’m here. What are you going to do about it?”
I intended it as barring my fangs to them. They took it as flirting. God, who’s the bigger idiot in this situation?
We ended up doing some stupid banter. They told me they were a vampire– yeah, no fucking shit, Sherlock. I guess they didn’t realize I was one too, because they yelled in surprise. Thank god we were in a club where people could barely hear one another– they were so noisy, it was irritating. However... I must admit, (even though I wish I did not have to admit it, even to myself,) I did blush when they compared me to Rozz Williams. In the moment I think I played it cool, trying to seem distant.
They asked what I was doing tonight and I bluntly told them not them, especially after they kicked me out of their coffin. They apologized– well, not really. They only told me that they wouldn’t do it again. They then asked me if I knew a guy named Lucien. The only one who came to mind was the guy from Suspiria. They told me I wasn’t a poser– cool, I knew that already.
They convinced me to go back to their shitty “apartment” with them. Yes, I know: those reading this are going to see me as an idiot. My idiocy didn’t end as they screamed at random people on the way to their place about being “preps”. In the moment, I felt too embarrassed to say anything. And yet, there I was, finding myself going back down into that Morrisey-filled cellar with them. Yes, it has a mold smell, by the way.
This time, we didn’t immediately start making out at least. They went to their computer as I fumbled around aimlessly, looking for any light source that wasn’t their bright monitor. I saw they were on Tumblr writing anon hate to some blog. Whatever, it’s not my problem. I decided to give up my quest for lighting and sat in their coffin, going on my phone. Obsidian must’ve sensed this, as they came over and sat on top of me.
... Yeah, we proceeded to make out again. Save the judgement for someone who cares at this point.
However, this did yield a new discovery: They had two sets of vampire fangs. I asked them about it, but they said they were born that way. Liar. I tried to refute this claim, but they kept going on, hurting my eardrums. They were so much more attractive when I shut them up with my mouth.
I had enough at this point, but they must’ve felt some tinge of guilt, getting up and putting on Sisters of Mercy. As much as I like “This Corrosion”, I didn’t feel like singing along like they did. Instead, I looked back at their screen and decided to ask, “So... Had something important to do?”
I knew the answer. However, they doubled down, “Yes– Ugh! I’m plagued by fucking preps!!”
“Is that Tumblr?” I decided to be direct, but they still went on some rant about posers and preps again but the end result is the same: yes, it was Tumblr.
Something occurred to me as they were ranting. Maybe I could help. Maybe I could even fix whatever is wrong in their brain that they feel as if they need to scream at strangers on the street. They had good taste in music, and if I needed to bitch, I think I could do it with them.
Living this way is lonely too...
I decided to follow them on my main account. My vent blog is not linked. Well... Probably somewhere in the abyss it is.
They praised me. It was again one of their “anti-prep” diatribes, but I could deal with it. We listened to music together for a while and I thought about the situation. Maybe they’re like me: moved to the city, no real friends here. There must be some reason they live in such squalor (not that I have any real right to judge... But judge I shall, as at least I’m not breaking into any buildings, I’m just squatting.)
Maybe they weren’t properly socialized. There weren’t a ton of kids on the commune when I was growing up; High school was a bit of a culture shock to me. I could understand that much.
Was it pity I was feeling? Perhaps. However, maybe we were actually meant to meet.
As I’m typing this now though, I have yet again been kicked out of their coffin.
Sigh...
Hi. What do you want.
Dear Diary,
I shall continue where I left off. I had the most unpleasant sleep on the cold concrete floor... Never again. Truly, I mean that.
However, my regrets didn’t end there. As I was able to get up, I saw Obsidian or whatever their name was at their computer (I think I even vaguely recognized the VampyreBytez forum...). Deciding the best way to state my presence was to talk, I asked what time it was.
“It’s 7PM can’t you tell the fucking time?” They said to me. I don’t know why they were so pissed off– actually, I should’ve been the one to be responding like that given the circumstance.
Fuck them, I want to leave. That’s all I could think of at that time. Simple-minded, but it was the only thing I could manage after sleeping in such awful conditions.
I asked them where the stairs were and they got pissy at me again. They didn’t even care to turn around to look at me. I guess it’s my fault for getting into this situation in the first place, isn’t it...? That’s all I could think of on the way back home. God, how I had fallen so quickly by gallivanting with this neon asshole.
Honestly, I don’t know if I’m more pissed off at myself or them. They were an asshole and I never wanted to see them again. If I see their stupid vomit-inducing green hair again, I’ll walk the other way. However, I do acknowledge my part in this situation, allowing myself to be taken by their... Well, I wouldn’t call it charm. “Intrigue” is a more fitting word.
Getting home, all I could do was think about “N” again. I looked over our messages. Last one I got from him was over a month ago, when he sent me a picture of some rail station he snuck onto by Lake Michigan. What would he do in this situation? Not go home with a prick, first of all.
I thought about telling him. Yeah, right, tell him what? “Hey, I slept with this person and they sucked. All I could do is think about you. Do you want to get back together?”
God, what’s “P” up to now? I checked our group chat. She said she was moving to the city, but I’ve been too embarrassed to face her. Last time she saw me, I wasn’t a blood-sucker. Granted, she used to write Twilight fanfiction, but... The real thing? I don’t know how’d she feel.
Self-inflicted purgatory filled with suffering. Maybe it’s some like past-life karma or something. My parents would say something like that... Maybe not directly to me, but to someone else.
Hell, I’d contemplate going back to the commune with my them to find myself if I wasn’t a fucking creature of the undead. Plus, I love clubbing too much to sit around listening to folk music... Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!
Why are you sending this here instead of Google. Are you stupid. You obviously can make it to this random blog.
No.
Dear Diary,
It’s such a trite thing to write in a diary. Who reads these? Snoops? Disgruntled relatives once you pass? Perhaps the cleanup crew who finds you... An internet diary, an open invite to the perverted to snoop through my thoughts and feelings...
Alas, here I find myself writing. Coming to the city has been a whole ordeal in it of itself, but that’s all for another time. All that matters is finally I got off work at a good time to go clubbing. What’s my job? Well, I got hired at a haunted house. I guess people in big cities are more open to... ‘Alternative’ means of fun. In this case: feeling it’s okay to sign a waiver to have some random person “pretend” to be a vampire and drink their blood.
Does it really matter if it’s pretend if it’s the same outcome? My co-workers are unaware of this fact. However, if I still walked among the living, it’d be much more disgusting to taste blood, wouldn’t it? No wonder this position was vacated.
Anyway, back to tonight. Perhaps I was desperate. I guess I needed to get something out of my system since the breakup (Again, for another time...). At the club, I met someone. They weren’t like “N”. No, in fact, they kind of pissed me off. God, typing this out reeks of desperation.
About my height, green hair that was chopped as messily as a child moving a lawn, extensions that lit up obnoxiously, more piercings than I’d ever seen someone cram onto their face. No, that’s all fine. I think the difference between this cyber goth and “N” might’ve been attractive even. However, they were the one who approached me and in a shrill voice screamed over the music, “Who the fuck are you!!”
Annoying. And yet, without thinking, all I could say back (like a cheap pickup line) was, “Who’s asking?”
They told me their name; It was some long mishmash, obviously not their real name... But who am I to judge on that? My first name is not my legal name (yet), and everyone assumes my last is an attempt to seem cool. Obsidian Spider of the Darkness or something like that. They proceeded to probe me, asking for my favorite Bauhaus songs– Passion of Lovers, for those snooping, or perhaps for a future me that feels differently. However, I like a lot of their songs, so I kept naming some.
Somehow, this conversation spiraled. We danced for a bit, and we ended up walking home together. Well, specifically, to their house. I had never gone home with someone with /that/ intent that wasn’t “N”. Maybe I should look into mood stabilizers for the lapse in judgement (requires a therapist though... Right?). However, due to my current “living situation” (I’ll explain later), I was fine with this arrangement.
... That was, until we went to their “house”. To call it a house is to give credence to their dwelling. We had to sneak around the exterior of some apartment complex– the first red flag. They yelled at some passerbys as we eventually got to the interior – red flag two. They then proceeded to bring me into some storage room. They then moved a dusty box to reveal a hatch with stairs to a cellar – red flag three. We then proceeded down these stairs, descending into darkness. They bumbled around in the room, not caring to help me navigate, looking for the lightswitch.
Now, dear reader, whoever happens upon this: Would you do this? No. Like fuck you would.
We somehow made it into what they called their “house”-- a hidden room in this cellar. It was pretty barebones... Well, if you just take into account their computer desk, coffin and strewn about clothes. I think the majority of the filled space were pictures of Morrisey taped around the walls, almost like an obsessed killer (Not that I am one to talk with band posters, but the sheer amount dedicated to Morrisey was a bit nauseating.)
Another lapse in judgement: I didn’t get the chance to ask what the fuck any of this was. Instead, we just started making out in the glow of their computer’s lights (Why they didn’t turn it off when they went out was a mystery). We fell into their coffin and well... Perhaps what happened next is too much to even write down. However, I will say, they refused to fall asleep without their platforms on. I, of course, could not get comfortable like that, especially in such a closed space. How did they react? By kicking me out of their coffin and forcing me to lay on the cold floor. When I tried to gather their clothes to make a nest, they yelled at me “ruining the order of their room” and asked if I was, quote, “a fucking prep”. I was too tired to fight and too tired to stumble around and find my way out.
If I get killed, this is a pathetic way to end my immortal life.