July 12, 2009
As promised, here is a diary entry from Edward’s Diary. It is from two years after Edward’s change from human, to vampire.
August 18th, 1920.
“Even humans don’t make the choice to be born. Once you’re already here, alive, the choice has been made for you. When I think of it that way, it doesn’t seem as painful. Of course, a human is only here on earth for a very short amount of time, unlike me. And a human doesn’t require blood, preferably that of a human, to stay strong. To live.
I’ve been trying to justify my existence, and with the help of Carlisle, at times I can accept what I am… almost. During times when I cannot accept myself, I become quite dark, saddened. It’s terrifying to think I could spend eternity completely despondent. Unlike humans, I’m stuck here – always.
Carlisle was turned into whatever it is we are in 1663, and has had a lot of time to adjust to – and even completely control – his thirst. His needs. He has told me stories of humans in his life who have come and gone. He has actually dealt with a great deal of loss – yet still manages to make the best of what he is.
The memories of my Mother, Elizabeth, are vague – but my love for her will never perish. She asked Carlisle to do whatever it took to keep me alive, and he did… in a sense. Carlisle was lonely, and I was on the brink of death. He did what he felt was the right thing at the time. He listened to my Mother. Carlisle is – to this day – almost certain my Mother knew he wasn’t normal. That he wasn’t human. When she asked him to do whatever it took, he did just that – and here I am. No beating heart, yet more alive, more aware and stronger than ever.
Carlisle couldn’t have predicted that I would be able to hear his thoughts, and at first it made him uneasy. For me, it has made things easier. I was able to trust Carlisle immediately because I could hear the boundless purity in his mind. All he has ever wanted is to avoid the dark side of what we are. The murderous, heinous, bloodthirsty monsters we are meant to be.
Carlisle wants to be different. We drink the blood of animals, not humans. It’s hard, but when I see how much it means to Carlisle, it helps me resist. From the day I was created, Carlisle has tried to instill in me his own sense of morality and compassion. He has curbed my appetite for the sake of humans. Carlisle may not have a beating heart, but when he was turned, his heart was without a doubt left in the right place.
Something I haven’t quite gotten used to is hearing in the thoughts of people around me – particularly women – who think I’m “inhumanly beautiful.” My appearance has definitely changed since being turned, but once Carlisle explained why we become so appealing to humans, it no longer made me feel exalted, rather cautious.
Vampires are made to attract their prey. We are built to captivate humans. Everything from my face to my scent is there to invite humans to get closer to me, so I can kill them and drink their blood with ease. I’ve trained myself to become numb to the thoughts of others around me. To never let a human get too close, no matter what. The flattery is nice, embarrassing, almost. I know I have to ignore it, though. I am the worlds most dangerous predator. In one swift movement I could take someones life. An innocent, weak human.
When you can’t sleep, you inevitably have a lot of time on your hands. I’ve learned a lot. Read a lot. Explored. Observed. Though humans dream of having more time in a day – I simply wish my days and nights had some sort of separation. Time just keeps going for me. Fast, too. When you live forever, a year is nothing. It goes by so quickly. Twilight, dawn, sunrise… it’s all the same to me. For the most part, meaningless. I spend most of my time trying to fill the never ending chunks of time in my life. Trying to avoid counting the blades of grass below my feet, or imagining patters in the sky that aren’t really there.
Carlisle worries that I’ve become depressed beyond repair. His thoughts are typically guilt ridden and full of concern. He often wonders if he’s made a mistake by changing me. He’s bounced the thought of creating a female companion for me around in his head quite a bit. I don’t believe -at this point – that I can love myself enough to love someone else.
I need to cut this entry off before I completely drown in self pity. It is, however, the reason I’ve started writing a diary. To conceal some of these feelings, to keep them from Carlisle. I don’t want him to worry about my happiness. I don’t want him to live with regret, for being my creator. Writing is therapeutic… relieving.”
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