My life is no great joy at this moment. When I tell people I am a vampire, they start to laugh. When I announce I want to drink from their veins, they laugh even harder. They say I am a scrawny nerd and tell me to call my dad to pick me up. I blame Malcolm, my sire. He turned me at the age of 14. He said he had to, that I would have died otherwise. I honestly wish I had, at times.

I do grow older quite slowly. All vampires turned as children do, but the pace is maddening. It takes us 100 years to progress one human year. So a little more than 300 years I will be an adult, and by then I am quite certain I will not be laughed at. I will be admired for my handsome features and demeanor befitting a man of great beauty. I can imagine it now, bright blue eyes, muscular, strong jaw. an alabaster skin. I do not know what alabaster is, but in the novels, I have read to gain more knowledge about my kind, women dote on it.

I hope by the time I am close to 16 years old in human years, Twilight is still popular. Maybe I can get young ladies to swoon at me then. I have about 100 years to practice my brooding look. I do not sparkle, how much I would wish it so, but I will make up for it with a smile that will melt all hearts. Oh yes, by that time I will beirresistible. I can bear the human’s insults and laughter. Their great-granddaughters will throw themselves at my feet.

I can live with that.

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