We are not defined by our things. Its not our clothes we wear or the cars we own or the art we aquire. It's not where we live but how we live. Its out ACTIONS that are remebered once we are gone.

I scream at the top of my lungs for the longest time. And I know I should stop, but I can't. It just keeps coming out. But I don't cry. I won't let myself cry.

I’m always thinking about what I’m missing. Even when I’m happy with what I have.

The love of every single one of my lives.

Everything just feels so empty without her. She was more a parent to me than my birth parents were. She took me in, fed, dressed me, but most importantly, she treated me with respect. She taught me that my abilities were nothing to be ashamed of, nothing I should try so hard to deny. She convinced me that what I had was a gift-not a curse- and that I shouldn't let other people's narrow minds and fears determine how I love, what I do, or how I perceive myself in the world. She actually made me believe that in no way, shape, or form did their uninformed opinions make me a freak.

Though I have to admit, I had a good laugh when I realized you thought I was a bloodsucker." He smiles.

"Oh, well excuse me. I mean since there are immortals running around, I figure we may as well bring on the faeries, wizards, werewolves, and—" I shake my head. "I mean jeez, you talk about all this like it's normal!