I never thought I’d be saying I don’t have time to do the things I like, but as I grew up I found that to be truth. You see, I used to read several books, to write tons of pages, to read them, erase them and then re write them. Now I sigh as I watch Buffy on Netflix while waiting for the phone to ring and then do my job. Funny, isn’t it?
Well, it’s not.
I remember the days I was a teenager, a stupid, pessimistic girl who wanted to fall in love with a vampire, a bad one (we didn’t have Twilight yet, thanks to the universe) who would make me eternal. I was going to live forever and bite all kinds of people. I was going to be ruthless and, why not, hot. Oh, I could live in darkness, watch my family die, become bitter in my old age and whatnot. I had all figured out: I was going to wear dark clothes, make fun of vampires like Louis and Lestat, but secretly want them, and to have a lot of kinky sex under the full moon, with dark eyes and lips red with blood. I dreamt of that. It was a fantasy I was sure I was about to fulfil. I feel it closer, I used to say to my grandfather, who then would look at me as if I had been hit in the head far too many times. I even laughed under my breath at the picture of me drinking people’s life away. Wait and see, mfs. Not even damned Buffy will be enough to stop me. Yeah, yeah. Conquer the world and all that stuff.
But that never happened. I didn’t get to meet the bloodsucker, mostly because vampires don’t exist and writers have ruined them for me (pussies), and I did not stay seventeen forever. I got over my obsession with pale undead creatures that seduced you and then bled you dry. I even crack some jokes about them now. Hard to take them seriously when they spark under the sunlight and drink only the blood of animals. Ha!
Joke’s on me, because time left to never come back. It waved good bye with a smile on its nonexistent face. The traitor made me older.
I also remember days seemed to last longer. I could go back from school, take a nap, wake up, go to my hula lessons, come back, eat a fattening snack, have fight with my grandmother, and go to sleep with vampires in mind. Almost everlasting. I would spend an eternity on my bed trying to make it through the night with no ghosts inside my room as everyone else snored. See? Timeless.
Now, some years later (not telling you how many), all I do is wake up and get ready to work. By the time I am done, I want to read, or to write, draw, watch tv, maim something; whatever comes to my mind, I swear, but my headache says it is time to go to bed. So I read a chapter of the book that’s on my nightstand, after those few pages, and because, duh, my vision sucks, I feel tired and have to go to sleep. No deadly fantasies there; just close my eyes.
I wonder where that vampire is right now. Can he bite me, or he prefers rabbits?
I could use some immortality.
Why would I use it for? When I was seventeen I wanted to bite and bleed people to death. Now, er. Well, I guess things do not change that much. Just kidding! I don’t have to sink my teeth into their skin… U.U