Robyn’s Thoughts

You’re so fascinated with how perfectly he smiles and talks about his interests. How he glows up when talking about the people he loves. How he seems to understand you and pushes you to be your best.

And then that new love is tested.

Suddenly he’s stubborn. Why’s he fighting you when you’re suggesting he takes care of his eating habits? He’s moody when sad and can sometimes be as grumpy as a teenager. His jokes start to seem a little old.

How does it survive? You kiss that big stubborn head of his. You both have to learn to apologize and understand each other’s boundaries.

I honestly don’t believe in unconditional romantic love. It may be all-consuming, overwhelming or intoxicating even. But it’s never unconditional. Because at the very core of your love, if it weren’t for this particular combination of traits in a human being with the proper circumstances, this love story would look so much different if there was one.

And the bliss of new love will fade. Suddenly the intoxicating love wears off and you’re sober. You have to choose to be his partner. You have to choose to fight for each other every single day, giving 100% to each other. When you feel that you can’t, then choose to just be with them.

I have many fears and tics. This is the most prominent and the one I’m going to start by getting over.

I’m going to prove to myself if I can get over this, then maybe it’ll be a lot easier to get over you. That I won’t fear any interaction with you and your apparent lack of interest in me and my life.

I hate that you still control my mood and with just a simple action you still have that power to bring me to tears. I hate that I let you have that power because I still love you, maybe even a little more than before.

I hate that it still feels just like it did when we first split up and that I’m starting to spiral all over again. All this and yet, somehow, it hurts even more.

Why can’t I stop thinking about you? Why can’t I stop regretting it even if it means letting go of what I want?

Our past messages.. they feel like looking at a different life. A different me.

I don’t know if it was bashful of me, or just plain unappreciative. I miss everything from the playful banter, to our reunion to how we longed for each other. I still do.

I accept that it’s been two months and that you’re moving on. I will not ruin that for you. I don’t know who’s right and who’s wrong anymore, I just want you to be happy.

If that means me staying away, so be it I guess.

I keep looking for a sign that it might be temporary and ignoring everything that tells me its not. It’s the longest we’ve gone not talking regularly, we’ve changed our names back.. even his friends seem to avoid me. I’ve begged for signs whether it’s the end or not and they’re blazing red in front of my eyes

“So this is what a vampire looks like. I’d ask if y’all sparkle in the sun, but maybe I’ll save it for another day”.

The frown of concentration on his face (on not sucking me dry, probably) slowly loosened into a slightly more relaxed and sort of half-amused, half-dry expression.

“We don’t sparkle, Robby. We could turn into bats at some point, but not anymore”. I honestly couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to be careful to not piss you off. Wouldn’t want you going batshit crazy on me,” I say with a jab to his ribs.

I‘m actually quite proud of how well I held my hysteria in, but I guess when you’re as terrified as I am, it’s almost like you can’t feel anything anymore. Like when your fingers freeze in the winter to the point where you just can’t feel them anymore.

Fred (a rather ordinary name for a vampire, now that I think of it) walked across the room in long strides to where his small fridge was located, pulled out a bag of blood, not unlike one you’d see in hospitals.

“It’s animal blood, don’t go fainting on me”, he called before tearing it slightly with his fangs and he started drinking.

I watched with mixed fascination and horror, not quite able to look away, his Adam’s apple going up and down with every gulp. As he chugged down the last of the blood, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then, he just stared at me with unblinking eyes, waiting for me to say anything.

It took me a few seconds, but I was finally able to say, “I’ve always wondered what blood would taste like to a vampire”.

He looked kind of relieved as he pondered my question over in his head.

“It still tastes the same, but it’s more appetizing I guess. More so the fresher it is”, he replied with a thoughtful look on his face, but I wasn’t really paying much attention to anything other than the empty blood bag he casually threw into the bin.

“Uh huh, so does it have different flavors?”

Now he was starting to look bemused, saying dryly, “Yeah rabbit blood tastes like grape juice, but squirrel blood tastes like apple juice”.

“Hey! I’m a terrified human here! Help me visualize what your life is like”

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