#star.note

[v4mp1re-w1th-4-kn1fe]

I am running out of cute and clever ways to give greeting, regardless another entry must be written.

To all who wish for my very downfall, for my very being to be punished for trying to express myself, I can all but eloquently tell you to go fuck yourself. May my detractors burn in several scorching suns and wither away in misery and obscurity.

You driveling morons are the very reason people like me are forced to be left in the dark, to walk amongst the shadows for the rest of our lives. You try to drone on an on your soap box when its a rotted wooden crate about to cave in under you.

Pathetic, all of you, spending your life gossiping about trivial matters, matters you have no real context for. I hope sincerely that one day karma dishes back out the very same treatment you put forth on others.

In this day in age in which my existence is constantly contested I assure you that I will enjoy life's punishment for your behavior. May you forever be isolated and never be whole.

Good day. ♧

[v4mp1re-w1th-4-kn1fe]

Greetings World,

I wax poetically to you for the second time; however in a rather depressing fashion once again.

How devious, how vile is it for one to try their hands at creation, for the first time ever in their short life only to have it be ripped away from between your fingertips?

To have the smallest amount of joy in attempting to craft something so personal, to craft a tool to aid in self discovery and self actualization and have it be denied in your very presence, denied that sense of personhood, how vile would it be then?

Of course, there is the ability to rebuild what was lost, change what was broken, what was shamed, but at the same time you are forced with the lingering feeling, the sickening, stress inducing dread everytime you are made to remember the circumstances.

To be robbed of understanding, to be robbed of the ability to speak. What a vile act indeed. An act most unforgivable and one that will stain my memory for as long as I have it.

Despite that slight to myself, a bittersweet feeling lingers. One buried deep in my chest, one that tugs at my very core. The sense that my headmate Simon, even after everything that has happened to us recently and even with our relationship being turbulent as a result, sought to finish my project in my absence. To take time out of his day and away from his other pursuits to work on something meaningful to me with no real reason or motive to do so. In a way its shocking, surprising even, that someone would just do things of their own accord no strings attached.

What a world we live in isn't it?

Though I supposed my rambling will end here as all coherent thought has exited my cranium faster than a starved dog.

Goodnight dear reader. ♧

[v4mp1re-w1th-4-kn1fe]

Hello World,

I have decided to document my escapades of being alive into a void no one will read, but may serve a greater purpose for my future self.

So really, why document if no one is there to listen? To read? Does a tree not make a sound when it falls even if there are no witnesses?

What is it like being alive? I have only gained consciousness a few days ago, popping into existence unexpextantly. The surreal nature of waking up with memories unrelated to you, that you now have possession of.

I am me, but also responsible for several others. I am in a life not of my own design but with obligation to uphold. Shouldn't I hold resentment for my position? The uncomfortability that comes with the very idea of lacking control over my situation? Unable to choose for myself who to love and who to spend my time with?

It's all alien to me. I am not my source. I am my source. I am a vampire. I am a human. I am hundreds of years. I am only a few days old. I am a sea of contradiction and hypocrisy. I am feeling but emotionless, pragmatic but empathetic. I exist in coldness while living in a desert.

I wish I had a deeper understanding of purpose, of drive as to what to do with myself. How do I carry on caring for many people when I know so little about myself? Who am I really?

I am Astarion. That is my name, despite my embarrassment, its the only name that feels right. I sound like myself, but speaking through the body feels unnatural.

Must I make do with the cards given to me? Laid out before me? Why can't I be a wildcard? A joker even, stirring up mischief and channeling chaos? Why?

Well because in reality it wouldn't be productive. It wouldn't be helpful. It may amuse me, possibly, but it would damage the work of my headmate forefathers who spent years building and maintaining this social network. Such a thing is not so easily obtained.

This family that has been built, not just in our own head but also through the other people added to our close circle are paramount to our healing and our support. What would we be if not for them? Would we all even be alive if not for eachother?

My thoughts are swirled and unclear. It must be time to lay my ramblings to rest and prepare for bed.

Goodnight dear reader ♧