Hi guys. Peter here. Sorry for my long absence. I have been traumatized by the loss of my lock of hair, one of the few things I had to live for in this terribly waking world. You see, sometimes, those awesomely emo bangs would fall in front of my eyes, hiding my visiono from the death that is the world. Those moments, moments when I was hidden from the true nature of the world, moments with hair in my eyes, were my few moments of sanity.
On top of my hair travesty, I am kind of incapacitated at the moment. No, not by sporks, more by this professor‘s mind numbing conversation that has too much to do with destiny and not enough to do with sadness and pain. God, how can someone devote their life to research and intelligence when there is so much darkness in the world? Razorblades. Fog. New moon. Such is Peter.
In order to try to keep myself from listening to his mind numbing, empty talk, I have taken to daydreaming, a world I can mold to be my own. Of course, I do not eliminate suffering from my daydreamed world, for I have never known such a life. There have always been lacerations. Dislocated shoulders. High cholestoral. Metaphorical medical conditions of course, but you get the idea.
Anyways, in my daydreams, I am Vampire Peter. It is the perfect state for me. I am dead, so my constant wishes of suicide are fulfilled (OH GOD SIMONE, WHY DID YOU HAVE TO LEAVE ME? DON’T YOU THINK OF ANYONE BUT YOURSELF?!). Yet while dead I still exist in a constant state of perpetual suffering and misery. The perfect life, or unlife, or whatever.
But I wouldn’t be one of those evil vampires, sucking blood of the innocent and hurting people. I couldn’t do that. I am a nurse, after all. I’d be one of those totally awesome emo vampires. Like Angel. Except skinnier. And more sensitive. And less manly. And with more mascara.
My daydreams have been totally awesome. As Vampire Peter I would stand on high skyscrapers, staring out at the moon. I’m deep like that. Deep. Poetic. Sexy Sylar. I would fly over the city. There was a drought going on. I needed to save the day. No problem. I found other people whose girlfriends who just broke up with them and bit their necks and turned them into vampires. Together we would fly over the city and cry about our losses, giving rain to the city. Tears. Fussy. I need to be burped. Such is Peter.
Maybe one of these “heroes” I come across will have the power of vampirism. To be able to absorb that would be awesome, in a totally terrible, painful kind of way.