what

I'm stuck at a crossroads, and too damn scared to take either path.

I never asked for this. Oh, sure, lots of people tell themselves that they never asked to be born, but that they grew up at all showed that there was a guiding hand that nurtured them, kept them alive. I don't know what I was before I was born, and I'm sure my various parts have their own stories. But here they are, forced together in the one piece that I call me. It's not right for me to be whining so much. It could be worse, really, because some people had to go through those fragile childhood years abused and powerless. I knew I always had power, yes, and you could do a lot worse than solitude, I guess.

But about those crossroads. It's so easy to stick around the vampires. The lure of company that won't lash out at you because you set off some deep instinctual fear is insurmountable. And hey, I'm a corpse, just like them. But it's hard to get your soul back when you spend all your time partying with the Damned, right? There's a lot of times where I wonder if it's even worth it. Vampires can be stupid, and petty, but so can people. So am I. None of us are really any better than each other. So what's the point? Let me stay a monster forever, skulking around the shadows with the bloodsuckers.

So why, with this in mind, do I still feel so jealous? Those few times I get close enough to people to hear them talk, they seem so damn happy. Even when they're bitching, they have so much. Lives, jobs. Family, children. It's stupid. It's so fucking stupid and yet I get obsessed. I can't let go of all that they have and I can't get. I'm human too, right? I've done some pretty awful shit when this anger gets too much, but after I blow out, everything's quiet again. And the cycle begins anew.

Heh. I chose my own name, you know. Probably comes across as some stupid, vapid stripper name. Nah, I'm smarter than I look. I misread her name when at first, and the misspelling stuck, but I couldn't get that character out of my mind, Caddy. Never once appears, and yet she's defined, shaped entirely by how others talk about her. It reminded me of how much I never really got to shape myself into someone through natural growth. Like every other goddamn thing, even my sense of self is mostly artificial.

I later learned that, despite this, she was meant to be the hero of the story. Maybe I could be my own hero someday, too.