PHQ-Nickname:
Syndel
Halfquake:
Mania
Level:
74
Total kills:
19,884,443
Birthday:
00th 0000
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| Diary of a vampire, entry 2 |
| Mood: | alive |
| Type: | Story |
| Added: | August 08th 2007, 01:35:26 |
| Visits: | 1359 |
| Series: | [ Diary of a vampire. ] |
| Rating: | 4.5/5 (Votes: 2) |
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6/08/2007
Why won't anyone acccept what I do? I had Art class again today, and as presentation I unveiled a work I've been working on for weeks. It's a rough scene, a young girl, staring upwards under a large spotlight, with dark shadows and hints of rough, metallic surfaces behind. In my mind I can visualise it now, the perfect curve of the hem of her dress, the shattered corruption of the spotlight, the dark shadows behind. It was... beautiful. It was emotional, it was expression, it was a vision of distress and panic. Her expression as she stood there, the demons seemingly mocking her from the shadows...
They burned her, the teachers. Who are the real criminals here? Those who persecute me for my creation? People so un-accepting they feel they have to control my thoughts? I feel I haven't been honest to you however, the background was not simply dark it was... shadows... I can't describe how I felt as I drew them, it was as if I was trying to paint the future, past and present in a second – and all the possible implications that would involve... the result was... bloody. If you can imagine a body which is at two different positions at the same time and it couldn't decide which place to be and so that the various body parts were everywhere... but it was never meant to be abhorrent. It was simply... I don't know.
My heart aches to see it's destruction. I don't care what they say, it was beautiful to me, and given the chance I would face a thousand of those demons to save her. Even then I did not accept their decisions, I fought, I fought for her. In the end I don't know why I did it, after all it was just a painting but there was something in me that cried out to save her... not just “it”... her. Maybe I was wrong, maybe they were right. But I cannot regret what I have done. I may only accept the consequences. I have been excluded from school and right this minute my dad is talking with the school about sending me to a psychiatrist. They didn't say so but I saw from the look in my mother's eye. It wasn't a look of shame, nor a look of understanding. What I saw in her eyes was fear.
They tell me I broke someone's leg, a random figure I focused on in my rage. They tell me the damage to the art department had been extensive with several tables and chairs busted. Apparently I also stuck a pen, deep, into someone's hand. I can't remember any of this. Am I truly insane? Is insanity just protecting what you believe in? I don't understand. Why am I cursed with this creativity? Why do my pictures provoke nothing but fear from others?
My friends have begun to abandon me. I was unaware people could change so quickly. My... ex-girlfriend, Mellisa, has abandoned me in this. She ran from me as I approached. I couldn't chase her – it would have been pointless, after all how could I explain this to her? How could I explain it to anyone? There is only one option for me. In a few days time I will be leaving this house, for good. Everyone here either fears me or hates me, or both, my fair Mellisa. If, by some random chance, you ever read this, know that I never meant to hurt you or scare you. This is something I must do, every fibre of my being tells me it is right.
I leave tomorrow afternoon. I think I'll take this diary with me. Things have changed so drastically in the last month I feel I need the anchor it provides. One more thing I suppose I should mention, that one guy I mentioned last entry, he was in the art class today, hidden behind a set of dark sunglasses. As I was dragged out by the art teacher and some of the other classmates I saw him looking at my picture. I can't remember it clearly but he was staring at it intently... I could have sworn he was smiling. Tomorrow I'll say goodbye to Mellisa.
I hope you trust in this decision mum, dad. |
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