November is an interesting month for me.
My birthday is the fifth, so I turn twenty-seven today — or I would if I were still alive.
(Before you ask, yes…my dad taught me the “Remember, Remember, the Fifth of November” rhyme.)
Speaking of being alive, the concept of “life” has become fluid for me. I was told vampires simulate life (breath and heartbeat) so we can better lure in our victims, but I also consider the source (Ian was an ass). Although I can always feel it coming, I’m still not used to the sudden lurch of my heart stopping at sunrise.
November was also the month I was “turned,” a word that sounds better to me than “murdered.” I get that now; I’m still here even though I’m physically different. Another immortal once told me I was lucky in one respect: being turned at so early an age may have cheated me of a full life, but it afforded me the luxury of pretending to be alive as my actual self a while longer.
She also warned me that the first century will pass faster than I think. People worry about numbers like age, but memories are more important. If nothing happens to me and if I take care of myself, I’ll outlive everyone I knew growing up.
Maybe that’s why some vampires are obsessed with family. That makes all the sense in the world to me, but there’s a danger in becoming too close to them. You want to solve all of their problems like a proud parent, and there isn’t much you can’t fix. The temptation is to be there with them, living their new life vicariously through them. I hope I’ll be able to resist that, but I know I’ll want to know them.
When you’re young and you think you’ll live forever, birthdays are important. It means you get more privileges and responsibility, which sounds awesome when you don’t have any. By the time you realize what that means, it’s too late to go back. I’d hate going back to being a little girl and growing up again, not if I still knew what I know now.
Wow. Okay, after recovering from vampire attention deficit disorder…
I’m not getting any younger while not looking any older. I’m told vampires can age themselves, but it’s a skill I’m still learning. In the meantime, being taken seriously as an eternal twenty-two year old works fine for a swimsuit model, but I’m not a big fan of that “you’re too young and too pretty to be in charge of anything” look I get from stern visitors. To be fair, school teachers can almost get away with it.
To sum up: in spite of everything that has happened to get me here, I’m in a good place. Good job, good people, and no need to hunt. I have a purpose, and even though it was given to me, I didn’t have to take it. For now, I can’t imagine anything else.
In this moment, I think I’m happy.
Birthday wishes only, please. If you buy something for me, don’t be surprised when you find out I regifted it to someone else.
Notes: if you’re wondering about the vampire birthday cupcakes with edible glass shards and candied blood, they were made by my very good friend Ceason at The Hollows. Also, this post is a few nights early, so I’m taking this coming Sunday off. Happy birthday to me…!
Keep each other safe.