Jan 21st

Dear Diary, since I had no work today, I decided to go and take a walk around the park, a cliché but enjoyable nonetheless. Still winter, still cold and I was nearly run over by a cab on the way home. The nerve of those drivers! I am getting uncharacteristically furious at everything right now, I put the blame on Dorian Gray. I truly believe it was his kiss that woke the dormant beast inside of me and Dracula lives on. Through me his evil survives. I feel a thirst, worse than a thirst, a need for blood that is with me constantly, I almost fancy I can hear peoples' heartbeats throbbing in my head as I pass them. Should I? Shouldn't I? What harm could it do? Just one little hunt in memory of Dracula without whom I would not be alive today. I will try it; I will do it just once out of curiosity. Maybe it will also drive Dorian from my head for a while. Tonight.

Later

Dear Diary, though I hate to admit it and the blood under my nails and smeared on my lips repulses me, I relished it. The freedom, the hunt, the kill. It was so primal. I felt like a wild animal set loose after an eternity behind bars, night all around me; I stalked like a cat. What need was there to be afraid of the dark when I was the monster that prowled there. I was the dark fear, the predator, the nightmare that still chills even the most level headed scientist when darkness surrounds him. God...what have I become? I rant on about monsters and darkness with joy like a savage. Forgive me Jonathan, Lucy, Mother, Father, I have shamed you all and I despise myself for it. What have I become?

Jan 22nd

Dear Diary, in an attempt to alleviate some of my guilt about last night I went to church today and sat through the service listening to the minister drone. I laughed a little bitterly at the ancient belief that vampyres cannot stand prayers and crosses, good thing it isn't true or else I think I would have found the service a little uncomfortable. When I had my hands clasped together to pray, I had to curl my fingers under each other so that the last of the blood on my nails wouldn't be visible. On my way home, I stopped briefly to post a card into Dorian's door since I have his address now. It said on it:
What's the matter love?
Not speaking to me anymore?
That's a shame because I was
Going to meet you in the gallery
At six this evening to talk
But it looks like I'll be talking to
A painting instead, oh well.
It'll probably be better conversation
Anyway, love. Maybe I'll see you
Maybe I won't, until then,
Mina

Then, confident that this would spur him into meeting with me I went home to change, midnight blue this time with the bracelet he gave me on our first meeting (not including the party, that was more like an extended exchange of insults.) Mind you, I suppose that's what our whole friendship (can it be called that?) has been so far. Why am I doing this? Meeting him again after what happened last time. I must have lost my mind.