note: I have a Jasper journal on livejournal ... and I've been working really hard to help bring some characterization to him in my own form. Last month, I wrote an entry that was 1,400 words exactly from Jasper's perspective ... and it wasn't good. At all. While I was up in Corona for Thanksgiving, my dad let me use his laptop and I had printed the original draft. My goal was to double the entry that I originally made ... but I ended up tripling it. :') I'll leave a link to my Jasper livejournal on my profile if anyone is curious in reading the original.

oh ... and I normally don't ask for reviews, but I'm asking if you could please leave a review with harsh critique at the end. I want to know what was good and what was bad so I can improve my writing to the best of my ability. Thanks.

For the last one hundred and sixty years, I've always questioned some part of my life. Nothing ever seemed to go right and I was perfectly fine with that. I was miserable, but I deserved it for all the shit that I pulled. So it's a complete mystery to me as to why, someone like me who is for lack of a better word, twisted, get such a good happily ever after? I've never deserved it; I never did anything or have ever been deemed worthy of having a good life.

"Son, the only way you can make your family proud is to stand up for our beliefs in this nation."

So at seventeen, I did just that. Born and raised in Texas, I was brought up by slaves in my household. Certainly I was taught to respect a woman … slave or not, nonetheless; from the expectations of today, I was not a good person then. As a kid, I was taught to be harsh on my slaves. I had to let them know and to get the point across that they worked for me and that I wouldn't accept anything below their best. If I was going to fight for them to stay under my roof, where they belonged, then they were going to give me everything they had. Without me, my slaves would have had no shelter, no food; they would have died on the streets long ago.

I stood up to the enrollees, lying through my teeth by saying that I was twenty years of age. My height was enough to convince them to not go and look through records. They were low on soldiers anyways, so even if I had told them that I was seventeen they probably would have recruited me.

That one quote from my father kept me going through the army. Maybe that's why I remember it so clearly as an immortal, when all my other human memories faded long ago. "Make your family proud." The representation of the only son of a Whitlock was to be proved, and damnit, I did it. My enthusiastic ways pulled me through the ranks from a measly fighter to Major Jasper Whitlock.

I can't help but wonder; did I make you proud, Dad? I pulled us through the military; I brought us further along than you or I could have ever imagined. I defeated those who got in my way, and I pulled others along with me in my conquest to be the best. The name on my uniform shone proudly as each day I brought Texas closer and closer to victory. I convinced others that if they weren't fighting to bring us closer to winning, then they should make their family proud for being so strong. Combat was the only option and the only one that I would accept. Nobody was going to fail under my watch.

But look at me now, Dad. Are you proud to say that you are my father, knowing that I not only killed innocents, but that I feasted upon them for survival? Can you be proud of me for teaching others of my kind to kill like I do; to fight like I do? Guns are useless and laughable in my presence. Did you know that I taught people to kill with my bare hands instead? How much stronger my teeth are than the metal of a bullet?

You're probably rolling over in your grave. Or you're thinking that I'm delirious. I wouldn't blame you if you were, Dad. My goal was to make you proud. When I was to come home on a small break when the war was neutral, I was to be on my doorstep with a smile on my face as I wore my battle scars with pride.

Make me proud. I hope I was able to, since I was never able to go home and show you my scars. Hopefully you can keep it in your heart that I was a good little Major while I worked in vein to be the best. I'd rather you have that impression of me than the one that I've lived with for the last century and a half.

I was thorough with my job. I made sure the ships were in order; I was meticulous with how many people were to go to base on certain days. Nobody was to defy my orders, and nobody was to be left behind.

Then that's when they came. Those who took my life away from me and taught me to kill the innocent, and to teach them how to fight and be like me. I was always charismatic as a human and I guess that rubbed off on the people who I was changing to be like me. Whenever I was excited about an upcoming battle, they were too. I didn't necessarily realize at first … like Maria, I just thought I was that good. Then when I become conscious of how whenever I was in a certain mood, that everyone else was … I thought it was just normal behavior. How could I have known what to expect with becoming an immortal?

Maria was absolutely speechless at my influence over everyone else. She praised me well, and it was just like the military all over again. I was being promoted from a useless newborn to now teaching them the ways of our battles.

Everything after that started to get worse. I don't know what it was, really. Something just happened and made me wake up and grasp that I didn't want this life anymore. But I didn't get a choice. Year after year I disposed of all the newborns whose strength waned; year after year I helped create new vampires with the craved strength to help us win the battles of the land of Texas.

All the newborns would drive me insane. They were all so ready to kill and be good at something for once in their existence. As depressed as I was, I couldn't help but feel a false sense of happiness at times because they were making me that way. I wanted to suffer and they wouldn't let me; they wouldn't let me become the monster that I felt was bubbling inside of me.

I didn't inform Maria of the gift I had gained awareness of over myself. But she's a smart girl; she knew something wasn't normal with me. She favored me more than the other's and I just wanted to be alone and suffer in peace. I was there to do a specific job and nothing else, because I didn't know anything else other than that duty. I had grown into that and nothing else because I wasn't allowed to gain knowledge of anything else except war, war, and war. It was against Maria's rules to go further than a certain boundary and we were not to defy her orders at any time or circumstance. She told me, once I was able to be strong enough to teach and control the newborns, that I was there for just that; I was there to help gain her materialistic claim over Texas.

I couldn't keep my secret from her any longer … much to my disappointment. Soon she began to favor me much more than she already was. Nettie and Lucy could no longer stand the favoritism and left soon after to make their own armies. I replaced them and after we defeated them, they were brought up no longer. Maria wasn't distraught or anything by their deaths and showed no remorse as she conquered the people who were standing in the way of her one goal: land.

I only wanted to as I was told, but soon Maria wanted more from me. I was afraid to defy her in some ways, because she's strong … and the power that she had over me was absolutely terrifying. Soon after I gave into her wishes without much desire to be with her as nothing more than a comrade. I blissfully ignored the looks that she gave me and continued to do my job. Now I just had side orders to please my master, for lack of a better term.

I've received two incredible blessings in my life. The first one was meeting Peter … and the second one was being found by Alice.

Peter became more than an alliance … acquaintance would be the best word of choice. We helped pull each other through, because we both didn't like what we did. But what other choice did we have? If we tried to run from Maria she probably would have killed us. When it came that time of the year to discard of the newborns, Peter snapped. He snarled that I wouldn't be allowed to take the newborn known as Charlotte, and that he was leaving. He wanted me to come with him … but I couldn't. Some strange feeling of disobeying Maria was the only thing that separated me from my freedom.

So I stayed. Maria was outraged that Peter left with Charlotte … but she didn't have the motivation to go after them and kill them. She was content that I stayed and ignored my lack of interest that was descending day by day. Every day that passed by I picked at more of my flaws and constantly questioned myself. Was I doing the right thing by staying with Maria? Should I have just found some way to off myself so I wouldn't make those around me suffer with my drowning, depressing moods?

The years passed like months. Peter had found me once more and restated his offer for me to go along with him. This time I didn't bother to fight with my inner turmoil of what Maria would say or do when she found out that I was absent; I was gone without a backward glance at the life that I was leaving behind, or lack of. I could no longer stand up and see each day; I couldn't bother with myself anymore and I wasn't as good as I used to be. Maria would get over me soon enough. There were many other vampires out there who were stronger than I was and were happy to be in that environment.

I didn't need to be a mind reader to know that Peter and Charlotte weren't too happy with having me tag along with them, but they were polite enough to try and keep their feelings to themselves. It was no use though; I knew they were slowly suffering like I was though they had no reason to be. They didn't have to stay with me for to long. I knew when I was unwanted and I made my presence scare until I wasn't there at all. I left with a note, wishing them well and thanking them for their company.

The thing that made me so miserable was my feeding habits. I didn't want to necessarily kill people; I didn't want to feel their last dying emotions before the life was drained from them. If I wasn't an empath, I probably wouldn't have minded the way I survived so much. But it's so different when you're able to feel the dread and not able to rid it from your mind for hours, then to have to do it all over again in a matter of days or weeks. My efforts to control my feeding habits were in vein. I tried to feed monthly, but they'd end up dying anyways from my frenzy. I'd starve myself to such a point that when they came near me, I lost all sense of humanity that I had. And this was the way it went for over ten or so years. I was with Peter and Charlotte for only half of that time. I didn't need to dampen their lives.

Wandering was a great thing. I saw things I never thought I'd see, having to expect of dying an honorable death in war. I didn't enjoy it, but I appreciated it. I didn't try to cause a disturbance in the town with my feeding habits; I only stayed long enough to take one human from the area before I was off.

Some days were worse than others. I made a game from my gift to make myself as miserable as I could. I didn't deserve any less and if I didn't have the will to off myself, then I could do whatever I had possible to make my existence as worthless as possible.

I remember sitting out on the streets on those bad days. I'd make myself comfortable on those benches in front of a bus stop. I'd sit there with my head in my hands and just keep my head down. I would have an awful sort of twisted smirk on my face. I'd weed through people's emotions, ignoring all the happy ones and wait for the people who were as miserable as I was. When their emotions hit me, I'd try and amplify the feeling as much as I could. Happy, sad, rage, sorrow, insanity, distraught; I felt it all. Then my blood lust would go into a whirl and it would take everything I had in me to not move from my spot and drain the person in front of me.

But then I reminded myself that I deserved this fate for everything that I had done and that happiness was not to be known in my body. The game became an addition of some sort, and I began doing that more often. I was just so empty that I needed these strangers to help me feel something to help me get through existing and being. They helped me in so many ways, but made everything so much worse. Feeling what they could made realize that I was still human in so many ways, just with a more superior air. They helped me see that I could still feel even if my soul was gone and I was a complete monster for killing and damning so many innocents.

Red became the new tint in my vision, as I would sit there in different areas of the United States. I would mostly try to do it at night, since I couldn't go out in the day. During the day I would get the better wind of emotions, but being out during that time made me extremely uncomfortable as well. The days that it was raining were some of my best days, but also my worst. People would get suspicious too easily and I would be forced to move to different parts of town to continue my sick addiction. I couldn't have them questioning or taking to me, asking if I was okay or not. No, I wasn't okay, and I probably never would be. I didn't need a reminder of how low I had started to sink.

Everyday I would gamble with not only myself, but the devil as well. When would I finally snap and just massacre a whole town? Surely, I would get the way out of this way of living if the Volturi were to come, or someone from their guard. Someone who was insane and killing people and exposing what they were was to be dealt with as soon as possible. I wouldn't have an option in my fate of continuing to exist or if I would be in the next purple flames that were heading up into the skies.

Then there was the day I found myself in Philadelphia. I was playing my game during the day since it was raining. It went well at first but then people started to become conscious of my actions; I wasn't sneezing or shivering or doing anything that would give to any sort of knowledge of how cold it was that day or that would humanize me. I was forced to go inside and hide away until people were clear of the streets, or the people who had noticed me would slip away to do their human daily activities. When I stepped inside some sort of small diner, I went in with the decision that since I couldn't torture myself to insanity (or as insane as you ca get for a vampire), then I was going to drive myself to madness with my blood lust.

Those plans flew right out the window when I stepped in the door. I was assaulted with the smell of someone from my kind. My eyes searched the place with a wild fervor to find out if I was in any danger.

Then that's when I locked eyes with her.

I think in that small moment I forgot everything about me. I forgot that I was supposed to look human and start breathing, or that I was still standing in front of the door while looking like someone had hit me over the head with a cooking pan. Once I was able to get back on focus, I noticed that she was heading towards me with this look in her eye that I couldn't place. Honestly, I thought she was going to attack me then and there, and in my mind I was already planning strategies to get out of there with her so I could destroy her before she caused any harm to me.

She came right up to me even though I was still standing there and staring at her with some sort of look with awe and confusion and need to protect myself. The closer she came she looked more determined. Then … I felt it. Her emotions; in that moment, they became the new game that I was going to addict myself to. I never felt anything like it before but I knew from that moment on that I was going to want and to need it more and more and I was going to take whatever she was going to give me.

Then to add to her shock factor, when she came right up to me, she had to look up. She kind of tilted her head to the side and smiled widely. When she spoke … I think I went to hell. Not because she was bad … but because she was so good and I didn't deserve it, and if I were to die; I would have in that moment, and I would have gone to the depths of hell for all that I had done.

"You've kept me waiting a long time."

I don't think anything sweeter could have come from her lips. Anything she said was enticing and I would have followed like a pathetic puppy after her if she had allowed it.

She was looking at me with some sort of expectant look on her face while this feeling of euphoria filled me to the brim. I did the only thing I could do at the time … I gave her what I had. I tipped the hat that was on my head down, while bowing my head and said, "I'm sorry, m'am."

Then she had to go and grab my hand … and I could have died again for all I knew. With that hand grasp, she was forgiving and showing me all that she had to offer and she wasn't going to look back on what I had done. She showed me that my past belonged exactly there – in the past.

For the first time in over a hundred years, I felt some sort of hope for what soul I had left. She told me about herself as we traveled from state to state, looking for the Cullen family that she talked about so often. I listened to every word she spoke as she told me about her visions, and how she had seen me and waited for me for so long.

Honestly, I didn't know what to do when she told me that. What was I to say? Virtually, I had no experience of sharing the love that she saw in me but I didn't see in myself. When I was twelve I shared my first innocent kiss with the girl across the street from me. Over the years that Maria wanted something, I gave it without much feeling. But now that I had met Alice … I didn't know what to do because I wanted to do it right and not make any mistakes. Everything I did with her was so new and to be honest, I was afraid. Alice was so pure and she was showing me everything that I needed to be shown and everything that I needed to learn. I was so vulnerable and shy and just so weak, everything that I had not been for the past century. I didn't know anything and I was so clueless … but she helped me learn.

She helped me learn right from wrong; she helped me learn and I helped her learn in return … but I don't really know what I could have taught her. I wanted to do it all then and right without having to wait, but good things take time. If anyone knew that, it was Alice – who was convinced that I was one of the good things that was worth the wait for.

On the days where everything was so hard and I just wanted to run away so she wouldn't feel the self-anger and hatred I had towards myself, we would stay inside and she would help me get through it. She would convince me that I was a good person, and that I was only doing what I had been taught to do. How could I have changed if I didn't know there was another option out there waiting for me?

"The past is to be there. Jasper, you can't keep beating yourself up for things that happened that you had no control over. You need to learn to forgive yourself or you'll always beat yourself up … and it really hurts me when you do that. Forgive, but never forget. If you forget what you did – then you know that there's a small part of you that will continue to that. If you forgive yourself for the mistakes that you've made … you'll be a greater person."

I don't know what I would have done without Alice. A good slap in the face would have been a great wake up call for me, because she was right in so many ways. How was I to learn to grow and do new things if I couldn't stop beating myself up for the mistakes that happened in the past? I couldn't forget my history, or else there was the possibility of repeating it. But if I were to never forgive myself for the people that I murdered in my thirst ...then I would be constantly putting her through the hatred I harbored for myself. If she was hurting over that … I couldn't have her hurt because of me.

So I tried. I really did. I made the effort to do my best and to forgive myself for my past and to move on and try. It was harder than it should have been, but the hate that I held for myself took a century to build. Something that strong doesn't just disappear in a matter of days. It took years before I was able to block that part of myself out. To this day, I still feel it.

And then there comes along Alice … and she holds me tight and tells me that she forgives me and that everything is okay. Only this time, I believe the words spoken. Not just because they're coming from her, but also because I have her to be able to take in that everything had grown to be okay.

The three years that we spent traveling were the best of my existence. Those years we spent growing to learn everything about ourselves. I learned things about myself that I never knew. Even though we didn't sleep, I found great comfort in being able to lie in a bed and to be able to wrap my arm around Alice while she smiled up at me. I learned that Alice liked to relax on a certain side of the bed and that she liked to pull the curtains open in the morning as if she were a human.

When we hunted together, I took in that she liked to play with her food before she ate it. When the animals were trying to scratch at her clothing, she would poke at it in he sides to aggravate it. And then eventually I had to remind her that she needed to eat and she would dive in.

We taught each other to feed off of animals. Alice told me how the Cullen's had a different eye color than us, and that we should try feeding off of something else with blood to see how we could achieve that eye color. She suggested animals, and we gave it four months. When she told me that my eyes were turning to an orange color after three months of weaning myself off of humans, she about burst into happiness. I know I almost did.

It was hard, especially in the beginning. I slipped up more than her with the humans, and we were able to escape quickly enough when I did mess up. I would berate myself for days for slipping up and having her to loose faith in me. But she reassured me that she never did and that mistakes happened.

But if she were to be able to feast off of animals … why couldn't I? We had both had the taste of humans in our mouths before. Maybe it was because I had been a vampire so much longer than she had and the feeling of human blood down my throat was just so comforting and everything that I had grown to known.

After so many years of searching, we found the Cullen's. They were up in Alaska when we finally caught up with them. They were on their way to a home in New Hampshire, and Alice was rambling off from the moment that she saw Carlisle about her visions and how we had spent the last four years looking for them. He was more shocked than anything, but he said that as long as we were willing to try their diet and stick to it … that he would accept us. I told him that we had tried animals to achieve the same eye color that they had (Alice interrupted me at that point, and went into depth about her visions). Later on I confessed how hard it was for me, but if were to make Alice happy … then I was going to do it.

It's hard to believe that almost fifty-years later that I'm still with her, or that she still wants me. It shouldn't be a shock, because I love her, and she loves me. I keep looking at my own flaws and I question myself, "How can she like me after she sees this? I wouldn't like myself if I made a mistake similar to that." But she told me it's all apart of the forgiving process, which I have yet to perfect. It's still hard, even to this day.

"If I'm able to forgive you for your past, then you should be able too, Jasper."

I try; I'm certainly nothing perfect. There's only so much I can do, even as a vampire. It shouldn't take me that long to make something perfect. I've had long enough to do so. But do I have the will to make myself move past my mistakes? Hating myself for my flaws has really been the only thing that I have been able to do right, other than love Alice as much as I can.

With time comes will … and hopefully my will to move on will come sooner than later.