My Name is Guillermo

My name is Guillermo, but that’s not important. What is important is what I am and how I came to be.

I can imagine your first reaction will be to close this confession immediately. If I’m lucky, you’ll only burn it. You must do what you have to.

I am a vampire. I wish I could say I was only a confused teenager delighting in the typical stereotypes of your average goth, ripe with pantomimed misery, wearing ridiculous velvet clothes, and wasting my nights away in Denny’s writing horrible poetry. That has many times been the subject of my fantasies, but it will never be a reality for me. I am the unfortunate product of a cruel and inhuman prank, doomed to an eternity of torture like nothing you have ever dreamed.

I should clarify something before I attempt to explain what a supreme waste the last several decades of my life has been.
There are two kinds of vampires. The good looking, mysterious creatures of the night, lurking in shadows and living exactly what everyone fantasizes them to be… Then there are the kinds like me.
See, those with the fortune of being the former take certain amusement in victimizing people like me by convincing them to become vampires with grandiose stories of super human strength, beautiful girls, perfect bodies and so on. It makes me sick to think of the list, really. It’s only after the horrid cascade of laughter echoes through your soul that you realize just how incorrect their lure was.
I was 13. I was fat… I am fat, I mean. I have terrible vision. I was settling nicely in the center stage of puberty, complete with the always welcome face full of ripe zits. I was exactly what you would never want to be if you were to suddenly become immortal and remain in your condition forever.
What they don’t tell you is that your body never changes once the disease of the vampire enters your blood. If you have bronchitis, you will be coughing for eternity. If you have a sickening blister on your foot, it will never heal. The misconception of a vampire being physically impervious confuses physical perfection with a physical map for the disease to follow. The vampire body will return to the condition of the map as soon as it detects change. This is why I cannot have retinal surgery to correct my vision. This is why liposuction cannot remove my body fat. This is why every one of the 27 noticeable zits on my face cannot be affected by medication and will remain exactly where they are no matter what efforts I pursue to disguise them. This is why I am doomed to suffer the anguish of adolescence long and far down the hellish road through oblivion. I should be thankful that I wasn’t converted while having a broken bone, but optimism is one of those things you manage to lose quickly when there’s even the slightest amount to complain about. Especially when you know the complaints will follow you through the expanse of time.

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