Blood. It is the most fucking awesome thing ever. I wish I didn’t have to kill to survive, but I am just worried about number one. Me. So sad, too bad.
            The sun. I can’t believe that just a year ago I was at the beach with my buddies. Now I can’t stand the daytime. The burns I got when I fell asleep in Central Park really sucked.

            I wish I knew what is going on, all I remember is His voice, telling me to relax, telling me that everything would be better now. I wouldn’t live on the street anymore. Yet, here I am, living off the same homeless people I once was beside in the soup line.

            I fucking came to New York to be an actor, not a bum, yet there I was, homeless, penniless and too proud to call home and ask for help.

            Now, I am better than them, I am better than everyone. I may not know what I am doing, but at least I have some money. My "meals" have had a few bucks and the one guy I rolled had four hundred dollars in twenties. He was probably looking for some action from the whores on 23^rd.

            The night I was turned, I remember hearing shouting. I remember hiding in the secret space behind the vamp’s coat closet, scared that whoever came in and shot those silver bullets into Him would find me. I remember feeling the impact of the bullets as they tore through Him. I remember the hollow feeling in my gut as He died.

            Now I remember his dying thought……Knighton, Ohio. It took me twenty minutes to find the shit hole town on a map. There I will find my answers.