Blackstone Angel

#𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔄𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔩 ; 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔙𝔞𝔪𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔢 𝔄𝔯𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔡 || An Independent, Selective Role Play Blog for The Vampire Armand from Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles and AMC's 'Interview With The Vampire' television series. || 21+

Return to me, I ache for direction only you can provide 💚

Nicolas... Time, situation and circumstance may remove us from each other's immediate vicinity, but you are remiss if you believe yourself removed from my heart. Of course I miss you. Mourn for you, ache for that tenderness that simmered beneath a veil of misappropriated affections and dark altitudes of guilt and longing. And your music... The reverberations of your strings still echo themselves in the chambers of my memory, making the skin quiver and the hairs at the base of my neck rise in thrilled anticipation. God, I want you to play again. For me this time. For me alone and no one else. Say I can be that selfish with you. I want to. Let me. If you cannot find absolution elsewhere, then put down the poisoned chalice of your memories and return to my arms. I enclose my private number and address where you may find me at your convenience. Bring only yourself. What I took from you I would personally sew back on. Forgive my clumsy stitches and dare to wonder if I have not connected us together by this red thread with every pull of my needle. I'm waiting, Nicki. And I'm hungry.

Wooo... Salut Anon.... The short answer? Because I'm beautiful and you're into S&M. A lot. So am I. You're welcome.

I am sad to report that my eyes are just brown, nothing really special about mine. Yours are always so dazzling both in daylight and at night. Like fireworks!!!

Awwwe my Eye Colour Anon! Salut! Welcome back! Oh goodness, stop it! You do yourself a disservice, don't you know how beautiful rich brown eyes are? Dark like coffee or sweet chocolate!! They change colour in the light, appearing haunting and black in low light, then maroon and caramel flecked in daylight. Beautiful! And, I'll give you a tip from a colour theory perspective - dark brown eyes co-ordinate effortlessly with any colour of clothing or cosmetics without clashing. Everything works! So they really are special! When I choose my contacts before going out to play amongst my mortal counterparts, I often choose deep, dark browns. And if I want to draw a little attention to myself, I hit my waterline with a little smudged black eyeliner and watch the heads turn. Works every time! Fun fact? A vampire's eyes will lighten by up to ten shades brighter than their natural human eye colour post-rebirth. Depending on the purity of the bloodline, they may take on the eye colour of their maker. This was true of my Daniel. In humanity, he possessed pale blue-grey eyes. But after turning, his shade became a stunning amber-orange hue similar to my own! Beautiful if you have a strong constitution, but generally, I go back to my dark contacts. Here, I'll go get changed into them just for you:

There! Better no? Much more human! Have you ever played with contacts or make-up to enhance your eye colour? Come back and tell me what your favourite combinations are!

So there’s this website called Archives of Our Own, I wonder if you or Mr. Molloy know about it? I figure Mr. Molloy would probably about it since he’s a writer? merci sweeties 🍬

Oh God - Salut Fyhk, You're so cute - darling, who do you think introduced the site to him? Not gonna drop any names, but it was probably one of my kind that created it back when FanFiction.Net and LiveJournal got too many written complaints about horny content. Back in my day, we'd write our friends erotic letters (with illustrations) that we could blush over... Now restless teens and young adults consume any kind of media and go off on tangents with biological impossibilities they categorise in alphabetical order. Genius really. Where else can you get a free literary porn fix at 3 in the morning? Support your fan-fic writers please, their filthy minds do God's work and there is a fair opportunity that a good handful of these people go on to have published careers in entertainment down the line. That said - I read that! And I absolutely did not do that with them or him or her in that position, nor with such vigour! You dirty little monkeys! How very dare you!? ....Don't stop. Wanna be my pen pal?

Oh dear Anon... Did you just Maître me? Come on now, sweetling, we both know deep down only my coven mates have the right to that title. And your anonymity cannot save you. You're one of us. You know me.... Intimately... Such an endearment after so long. I'm honoured, flattered even. I've not been a coven master in over a century now. And yet... Hmmm.... no, I'd rather not say. If you know me, and I'm certain you do, then you also know that, like all of our kind, greasepaint and khol have now given way to a well-placed foundation and, on occasion, when I'm feeling fierce, a little smoky eyeliner to capture attention. Did it capture yours? Are you transfixed? Unable to look away? Do you want to come closer? I want you to. Yes, I bite... but tell me I'm beautiful and I may well reconsider...

-🍇

Ahh Salut dear Dionysian Anon, Ahhh, smart... Very smart. I see the angle you play and applaud you for it. You are right. Playwrights in history, like many other artists, have been plainly ripped off and abused. Their works plagiarised and they not receiving a penny for their labours. This is cruel and in poor standing. Friend, I have been many dreadful things in my lifetime, but an outright thief of the arts? Never. Never. I would sooner shut down an entire production than I would put onto a stage a performance and not pay proper credit and recompense to the originator. That is a low act. And one I personally would be mortified to commit. Rather, the reverse - go through the history books, steal my work. Put it on the stage and give it your own name. If it makes you money now like it did me in the 1870s, then so be it! Good on you! I don't care. I'm a dead thing, anyway. Everything I do is an imitation of life I have no right to. I know this. But in saying this, rest easy, my friend. The Théâtre des Vampires has been closed for decades. Versions of it have existed globally under the name of "Dracula's". Fully immersive cabertes. The last I saw was on the Gold Coast, Australia, in 2016. Not a single one of my kind truly present. They thought my natural eyes were film-grade contacts and congratulated me on their placement. So sweet. Imagine my joy when they tried to sell me themed condoms in their gift store:

Credit: https://draculas.com.au/ Hey, safe is sexy, no? Listen, your play is safe with me. No pressure to disclose the script if you do not wish it. You're a tease, and I want you to... but at least we have protection when we need it most. Lustily yours,

I was wondering your thoughts on most vampires being victims of circumstance. That they were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Caught the attention of the wrong person.

I'm sure there are exceptions but, well even Lestat's band didn't know they were kicking it with a real vampire at first. They definitely didn't seek him out.

And would you or any older vampire be willing to help out a newly turned vampire? Say their maker is unwilling to help or dies before being able to teach them anything, would anyone step in to help? I'd understand if you wouldn't, it's not your problem.

But what if...? Ugh I hate to put this out into the world but say I was turned (god forbid GOD FORBID) and my maker was terrible, would you let me come to you for advice? I'm very curious to know your thoughts.

- Cryptid

(I've not been turned! I don't want to be a vampire! No offense, it just sounds like my absolute nightmare)

Salut sweet Cryptid, Oh God forbid! The very idea makes me revolt internally. You know me now, you understand my views on things and how, for all our longevity, the setbacks to our species far outweigh the benefits to our livelihoods. My covenmates argue the point with me constantly and then are quickly humbled back into silence when the proof of their failings and my own are slammed in their faces. See this post here where a fledgling recently meant to engage me: 10th July, 2026 You can see from my return that I approach the new and uninitiated with caution and perhaps even some contempt. I cannot help that, for all my well-meaning and patience, the dregs of our kind, the hangers-on and power-hungry of no particular pedigree that feed on humanity without grace or reservations are like cockroaches. Excessive, disease-breeding vermin that perhaps can and should be exterminated with extreme prejudice. I know, this is an ugly side of me, but one I was forced to uphold as Coven Master in France for centuries. If the masses are not culled, they surge and swell in numbers and cause chaos to the natural ecosystem of humanity's delicate web. Sacrifices must be made or vampire kind could well spread like the most debilitating epidemic imaginable. We, elders cannot tolerate such a sordid disruption to humanity, for we are intruders and our passage must be suppressed and rigidly controlled. And yet.... I am not heartless. It is exactly as you say, and as Louis said. We are born of trauma. We are victims of situation and circumstance. We are in the wrong place at the wrong time. Few of us ask for this "dark gift" outright and survive its brutal onslaughts. There are so few of us now, many go mad, throw themselves into daylight or the fire. If the Devil doesn't get them, one of us will. For any number of reasons. We are as intolerant and disagreeable as you might imagine. But just suppose a fledgling is displaced and comes with open heart and soul to seek refuge. To learn, to better themselves, to master this savage condition... I will help. I have helped. I created the Night Island and the Théâtre des Vampires for this very reason. To provide safety, security and refuge in a world that isn't designed for us. Look at our Lestat, our Marius, they were captured, virtually raped out of their lives to be thrust headfirst into our darkness and for what? That wasn't love, I assure you. It was pitious, selfish. To mind a fortune for a while and then be discarded. I cannot abide such things. I don't have the stomach for it. I feel... I ache... I bleed like the next man. Tell me the truth: that your maker abandoned you, that you are cold and starved and lost and confused. I owe you nothing. But I understand... And I would bring you in, bathe and clothe you. Guide a harmless feed and give you sanctuary to sleep in peace during the day. We'd work it out together. We have to.... We can't all be the same heartless monsters, can we? Eternally yours,

I hope you’re doing well!

I hope Lestat’s not trying to put you in harm’s way and that he’s doing well, too!

Sadly, I have few questions for you at this time.

You’re always appreciated, Armand! :)

Salut darling Whitechoc! Oh, hush you! Just seeing your name pop round my inbox is an endless source of joy for me. You don't need to come armed with questions; any and all conversation is openly invited and dearly appreciated, I promise you! You are precious, don't you forget that. Trust me, you don't want me standing two inches from your face giving you pointed reminders of your personal greatness. ....Or maybe you do. You might be kinky that way. I don't judge. Haha ^^ Lestat putting me in harm's way? ...You mean, again? For the ninth time just this week? Honey, I'm not living life unless that blonde idiot is spectacularly fucking up our livelihoods in one way or another on the daily. Have you met him?! My man is a walking disaster in leather pants. My Danny tells me he's woefully erratic during interview sessions. He rants and raves, cries, barks, bitches, then grows sullen and clams up tighter than a nun's.... never you mind. He calls me, blood drunk at 3am to hollar and curse at me in French for this or that sin I committed against him two hundred years ago. Some of which I'm sure he makes up and embellishes just to spite me. But, be that as it may, we are family. I owe him a debt of livelihood insurmountable, and were it not for his dedication and foresight, I would have fallen to ruin centuries ago. I may not even have survived as I did. So, I sit down and listen. I don't bother to argue with him; I'm beyond that now. I comfort him, I cry with him, I get angry with him. Always with him. Never against. Because he is family. What little I truly have. And whatever battles he takes on, we take together. Through good and bad. I just wish he wouldn't steal my eyeliner when he comes over. Until next time, sweetheart, Adoringly yours,

Now, I am a massive fan of science fiction, as I know that you are as well. My favorite science fiction media is Doctor Who. If you also like it, who's your favorite doctor? Mine is Peter Capaldi. He was somehow the most human version of the doctor because his care for humanity was almost palpable in the seasons he was in despite his lack of social skills sometimes. To me, he's quite underrated in that way!!

Anyways, those are the questions I have for now! Hope to hear from you soon!!

(P.S. I wanted to ask because I did not want to be rude and assume, but can we be friends? I feel like having a friend like you would be amazing because of the life experiences you have. Plus we can gossip 🤭)

Well, salut there Myrcalla, Another Sci-Fi friend? An absolute pleasure to meet you! And thank you for your kind compliments; they are extremely well received. I'm delighted you came about to speak with me, honestly. And I hope you conquer your shyness and return again and again! Now, I am proudly very "geeky" as the moderns say, when it comes to my fantasy and science fiction. I was obsessed with Ridley Scott's 'Bladerunner' from 1982 and still consider it, hands down, a masterpiece of modern cinema. It captured a dystopian noir habitation of society that is frightfully outside of the realm of fantasy, more relevant today than possibly imaginable with the advent of training AI and humanity leaning into virtual companions. Personally, I shudder to think. Now, 'Dr. Who', I love as well! A comfort show from its advent on British television in 1963. I didn't actually get into it until about '71 to '72 before I got hooked. Look, as a stage director for decades, I view performances differently from the passive audience member. That is, I value each rendition for its own merits and do not pick apart one for the other. But in modern 'Dr. Who', I agree with you, Peter Capaldi owns my entire heart. Towards the last few episodes of his final season, I actually burst into tears; I was that moved. He possessed the humility and compassion of a father figure and a higher being that I considered enviable. Hands down, award-winning performance! Ugh! Just brilliant! Absolutely re-watchable! Now, what are you talking about? Can we be friends? But darling, we already are! If we share a common interest, then we're already companions of heart as far as I'm concerned! Message me any time! I'm always down to chat. But I warn you, dear, it's impolite to gossip. Small minds and all that. But that doesn't mean you can't tell me all your cheeky viewpoints. You'll have me giggling like a schoolboy! I'll have to shoo Danny away from looking over my shoulder and wanting to stick his big nose in our private business. Haha! Come back and chat soon, yes? You have to tell me if you've seen the film 'The Fifth Element' - another of my all-time favourites! Where's my sonic screwdriver when I need it?

There was a time that I did, of course! And during that time I very much had many, hmm, 'struggle meals' I suppose.

Has the World Cup been interesting? I don't follow it myself. But I am glad you're having many lovely adventures!

Thank you for your words of advice. I may try some of those tactics.

🌹🐇

Salut sweet Roz, Oh darling, forgive an ancient his little jokes. I was teasing you playfully; I meant no harm, dear one. Never. And just for the record, there's no shame in being a food snob. I WISH I could be a food snob. I'd refine my palate to razor precision and literally be the terror of the fine dining circuit. If only! But, I don't mean to pry, sweetling. I know for a fact that there are times when human eating becomes impossible due to various circumstances, and I, longing to taste and consume what I cannot have, my heart goes out to you. My Master once told me: "You must eat to live, rather than live to eat." And as a blooddrinker in the early stages, where I became fitfully obsessed with my next meal and could think of nothing else before, during and after - well, it was a bit of a mess. You do regulate over time. Of this I am living proof. And I'm certain given time and patience, you too will bloom to the dinner table rather than seeing it as a struggle. At very least, I pray you do. As for the World Cup, it's been thrilling! I am presently in Spain, surrounded by ecstatic cheering for a stunning two-point victory against the French. Now, I'm in a state of juxtapose, for I have lived in France for so many centuries, I am a child of France by adoption if nothing else. So to see their loss cast daggers in me. The rest of my French covenmates joining us from around the world on video call. We were screaming, crying, shouting! Woe be to France! How could they miss!? How could they lose?! Quickly, get out the guillotine again; they don't deserve to earn such impossible paychecks to kick a ball in the wrong fucking direction! Lestat's language has always been "colourful", but I learned some new words from him when Spain scored a clean victory! Then Danny and I went out amongst the people of Madrid to screaming jubilation and street parties all night. I've never been hugged and kissed by so many Spaniards in my life! And no one tried to pick my pockets, not even once! Good times! Now, what adventures have you been up to? You simply must tell me!

Eternally curious,

Sorry for my silence, I've been taking my time to settle in to my new place. I'm happy to say it's been better. My roommate has come back from her work trip, so I'm less lonely. My mother came down a few times to help me organize (it's her favorite thing to do and she's very good at it!) and I've even made some new friends, if you can believe it! We all went on a small hike to celebrate the summer solstice! It was wonderful. And tomorrow I plan to get a new library card for this county!

Rest assured: I've thought of many questions to ask during my silence. Look out for them! I'll try my best not to ask them all at once :)

Support your local libraries!! - Sincerely, a library clerk who is very passionate about libraries

Ahhh Salut dear Cryptid! How good it does me to read of you again! Oh, but of course! A library is a church of the mind. Books are the memories of humanity's core and must be preserved and cultivated for the betterment and pleasure of all. I could not imagine a world without books. Even in this technological age, where I flip about with my iPad and phone and have this or that smart device connected to this or that WiFi port, trust me, I put all of that rubbish aside for a good, solid book in my hands. The feel of it, the weight, the scent of pages and glue. The beautiful bindings and embossing. The page edges now printed with gold or pictures most beautiful. And the dirty looks you cast someone that bends the spine back too far and makes it crack... Bliss! You can't get that from a Kindle! I degress in my joy. Owning a new library card is like owning the keys to heaven. I'm often lost in them, being politely thrown out at closing time so as I'm forced to make apologies. Too many computer sections and not enough art books, but that's my personal complaint. I get irritated by the sounds of clicking keyboards when I'm trying to concentrate on a romantic novel. Ahhh.... Good times! Tell me what your favourite books are, won't you? I'm so happy to hear you're getting on well in your new home now. Having friends and your Mum near at hand must be a divine comfort. You don't know how lucky you truly are, my darling one. I would give my right - what's-his-name - for a chance to sit in the same room with my mother once more. Who am I kidding?! I'd give my whole soul and more... Now look, I'm all emotional. I want you to come back and tell me you've learned Marie Kondo's folding techniques back to front. And that you're not doing anything stupid like eating ramen cup noodles every night. You need proper nutrition! You hear me?! I'll worry for you otherwise. Come back and ask me all sorts of things, but more than that, just come with your beautiful heart and endless stories. That's what I want more than anything. You are adored,

I gotta new burning question- since you’ve been around for so long, you’ve seen the rights and wrongs of society in the world, right, mister? Do you have a favorite protest movement against these wrongs? They’re all extremely important, but what was one that really affected you? If there is one.

People speaking out against a higher power, judging it, taking control of it when they know something is wrong- it’s something so powerful to us. As a queer, brown man I’m sure you have been moved by a lot of these movements too, even though you’re a vamp. Maybe they helped you fight against a power in your own immortal life.

~🌞

Salut my dear Sunshine Anon, Why thank you for your compliments young man, you humble me. I am in your debt, honestly. It is my pleasure to know that my words move you so profoundly. If my (mostly) innocent storytelling can illuminate your hours, I feel all better for being connected with you. Tonight, you ask me a profound question. We have a kinship. Our skin tones and sexualities being somewhat similar is a bearing toward unity I can feel secure in. Do I have a favourite protest movement against wrongs? Just this century? Oh God yes! I could ramble for hours and hours about underground movements that spurred on the seeds of social revolution from as early as the 1500s across Europe. Much of that is now lost to only the history books. But let's look at some poignant global movements together, in no particular historic order. Click on the links to learn more.

The Suffragette Movement - 1903

The Fall of the Berlin Wall - 1989

The Abolishment of Sati - 1829

The Slave Trade Act - 1794 - 1807

The Universal Declaration of Human Rights - 1948

The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights - 1966

The International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights - 1966

These are but a tiny handful amongst so many, many more held globally. Every movement towards the conservation, protection and propagation of Earth's natural resources. The movement toward recycling virtually everything, banning single-use items in the consumer industry. The push towards sustainable and renewable building materials, fuels and electricity. The conservation and protection of the rights of children, women, young people and the elderly. Movements in tolerance, amnesty and respect for diversity, cultural protection and social justice. Movements that end wars, stop the doomsday clock and remind us we are not three seconds to midnight. This is what amnesty is about. When we pulled together globally in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic that killed us in our millions to create a vaccine to help us survive. 2021. That was one of the finest movements of human endurance I have ever witnessed to date. That was five years ago. We've barely even grazed the surface. Alone we are great - together we are unstoppable.

I apologize if I…*ahem* ranted for far too long in your inbox in my last letter. As I heard a pastor joke once, “I’d make shorter sermons, but once I begin, I get too lazy to stop.”😂 I came off as hectoring, almost borderline prudish in a way.

Your other letter you responded to—the one about indulging in a vampiric fantasy—is on my mind this evening. It titillated me, not merely because I’ve had one or a hundred of them since I was a teenage girl (I’m sorry if that upsets you; you refer to yourself as a monster so many times, it must pain you to see so many people say that they daydream about the life you live).

But it thrilled me because of how bone-achingly romantic you made it seem. And I think that’s what’s whirling around in my mind tonight. That scenario had so much life in it, and I think that’s something that’s missing from our modern life. We have every imaginable convenience available to us and nearly every civil right enshrined in law, and yet there seems to be a dearth of vitality to living.

That playful lust, that crackling romance, that overwhelming passion you described made me realize what I truly long for in life. It isn’t the power or the immortality that seems to move me about vampirism, but the devotion. The earth-shattering devotion that your kind seems to exhibit towards those you love is the kind of thing I’ve yearned for, and how far from my grasp it seems to be in my own life. The only times I seem to glimpse it are in history books, novels, poems, films, and—sometimes—in people around me happily settled with their significant others. And yet I long for it with everything that I am.

It makes me think of Mary Oliver where she enthused about being a bride married to amazement all her life; of Sara Teasdale rhapsodizing to her sweetheart about wanting to be plunged deep in love, and be swept away by its tempest; of Christopher Marlowe all but entreating his darling to come live with him and be his love. Is this how you have felt when you’re in love, Armand? Is it possible to find? Do you think it truly exists, or am I simply a lovelorn yet lovesick little fool?

I apologized for rambling in my last letter, and yet here we are again! Oh, we’re really in it now!😂 It’s late, I’ve had too much to drink, and I’m letting my thoughts and emotions run away with me. I wrote this out because I didn’t have anywhere else—or indeed, know where else—to put these thoughts, and because a part of me knows that you won’t make fun of me for having them.

Wherever you are, dear friend, I hope that you are well and that you’re feeling much happier than I am feeling tonight. It’s too bad that you are so far, for I could probably use another embrace as of now! And to have someone, anyone, tell me that I’m not pathetic for feeling like this.

But as always….just, thank you for listening. It means more than you realize.

Oh, sweet Elizabeth, My heart sings when I see your name come across my inbox. Darling, darling, please, stop, sweetheart - don't apologise. I can't bear it. You've done nothing wrong. Ever. I'm convinced you haven't the capacity. You haven't a wrong bone in your body, and if you do, it's so far submerged by your innate goodness that every other fault you could imagine is entirely negated.

I'm honoured that of everyone in the whole world, you would come to me in this moment of vulnerability. Yes, sweet lady, you are safe with me. You are never ridiculed or minimised for your feelings and emotions. Rather, here, let me strip back a little and be vulnerable with you as well. You understand me now… You make me feel safe. So come, hold my hands. Pardon me, they are slightly cool. An unfortunate side effect of my preternatural nature. But hold me, dearheart. And let me pour my heart out into your hands a little.

Let us be lovesick fools together. All of those you mentioned, Oliver, Teasdale, Marlowe, Shakespeare, Byron, Austin and Shelly… All these great writers shared the same vision of human emotion. That love is earned, or stolen, begged for, bought. Bargained, burned and ripped away. That we are richer for its capture and poorer for its loss. Once tasted, we are its irrevocable slaves and nothing but its fullness can satiate us. We may spend a lifetime in its wake, attempting to find something just like it.

Darling, there is one truth in this world. Love is real. Love is the driving force by which all rise to create, to live and grow with each other. Think about it. Would you get up each day from your warm bed if something out there did not call you? Even if it's merely boiling the kettle for that next cup of tea. You take it for granted, but somewhere out there, some farmer had a vision that they would cultivate the land to create a garden of tea leaves that would support someone like you every day. That tiny cup of brewed fortitude prepares you for what is next to come. Is this not love?

But I can hear you say to me, "Yes, Armand, this is great and good, but I need someone to want me, to need me, yearn for me, adore and make love to me - That is the love I want."

And I say to you - Darling Beth…. I want that too. I need it. I can't go on in this world without it. And I'm dead over five hundred years. I'm a shadow of a boy gone to ground. I don't drink blood from the vein anymore; I feed off love. Rich and pure. When I hold someone in my arms, when I embrace them, and they fall to me, I want them to feel it the way I feel it. It's not petty and sexual… It's potent and raw. It's alive in that moment. There is no misunderstanding between us. We exist in the other's embrace, even as perfect strangers, something inside us resonates with that true connection that is akin to a higher power. This is the voice of God. This is love.

What I've learned in my many lifetimes is that you need to work to find it. And that its purity comes through sincere and honest friendship. The person who is with you in sickness, in trouble and in death is there to love you. They understand you. They read you from across the room or note the state of your heart from the sound of your voice down the phone line. That is love. They are there, Beth. They have to be. You will find them. Sometimes you may not even be aware they've been adoring you fondly all along.

Okay, okay, so I admit it. We get into shitty relationships with the wrong people. We break up, make up, break up again. Get drunk, fool around, fuck around just to stop feeling empty. We wake up the following day with our heads down and our knickers tucked into a pocket, still tasting last night's drinks and that God-awful pounding din from the nightclub. We're ashamed of ourselves, and when we get home to safety, we hole up in the shower to scour our bodies in scoulding water and cry at our mistakes. Sometimes, just sometimes, we have to live through that mess to see value in something greater when it comes along. And it does come.

I know. I've done it. Many times. Am I proud? No. Could I have been persuaded not to go through with it at the time? No. Why? Because I followed my body's carnal hungers rather than my rational mind, and convinced myself under the neon lighting and foggy dance floor that I was living a dreamy romance. I had another person's second-hand drugs and booze careening through my system. It's all so perfect, right? I'm high off them. One thing leads to another; I'm in the back of a Benz. I don't know who's driving the fucking car or where I'm going. I don't care. After a while, we're in some passable serviced apartment with a moderately clean bed that we're both going to make a mess of. And why stop there? There's every other vertical and horizontal surface to take advantage of too. My head's swimming with positions from the Karma Sutra, and they're too overcome to refuse me.

Come dawn, I slink away without so much as an apology or a note. I don't leave my name or number. They won't remember me anyway. I feel sick. That was a bad idea. I knew it was a bad idea. But I did it anyway because I needed to remind myself that I can still feel something greater. Can't I? Do I even deserve it? Does it matter?

God, it has to Beth, it has to. We can't be the eternal victims of our own forlorn longing. True love has to be platonic and honest. Yes, it's devotion in its purest form. To be known is to be loved. Find the one that knows you. Devote your time to them. They will do the same if their intention is pure. And if it's not and you spot their weakness, don't labour under a faux fantasy. Break away and try again. It's not worth holding air when the sun's rays are there to warm you.

Enough of my rambling for tonight. You are loved, Elizabeth… and with me, you are known. Forever,