To the casual observer

The deafening solitude that a lonely night in the city can produce, is filled with the observations of others.

Human beings must include themselves with other people because they are simply trying to imitate an imperfect copy of a perfect relationship with god. Those who live immortal such as I, have stopped feeling the beating hearts in our chests; the chemical reactions in our brains that amount to emotions and opinions. We live for the purpose of living; and being undead, it's a mockery of life at best. We cease to hold onto that which truly makes us human.

The pain they suffer vibrates from their eyes like a muted version of preternatural glow of my undead eyes that only those keen observers who see the vibrations of the universe can see. Their hearts beat as sonorous as tympani and they are so strong and bold that they die a little all the time without suffering the knowledge of what actual death feels like. They are opinionated and cruel and can eviscerate their fellows millions of times worse than base creatures, such as myself, ever could dream of.

Lest I turn one of their kind into a creature such as I am, they will never know a pain worse than that of being alive. In fact, even as a night stalker, they can only feel the viciousness of emotion as a memory; from a cold and still heart that does not feel but rather fabricates, with intrigue and curiosity, the proposed idea of emotional pain; imagining it like so many disney characters pondering wishes and dreams only to ignore and feel the malignant sickle of reality, the world's dejection and eventual death.

For many of them, it's not too late to acquire a new lease on life but for some, they exist as defective parts of a well oiled human machine, awaiting their permanent deletion. This is the human world at this juncture.

We are required now, more than ever, to control the flow of mortality and adverse population with zero bias; their impermanence driving their viciousness, callowness, and malignancy towards their fellow man. They disguise such things with charity but their emotions and their beating hearts say otherwise when they experience differences or real hardships.

Nothing in the world is so mean at base as the jaded and emotional mortal man. Pain stems from him and the world he has helped create if you go back far enough down the line. He seeks his fortune and competes as all humans do but in his quest for bigger and better, he finds useless fascinations on the way that elevate him beyond others just as fleshy, bloody and delicious as he.

Do not misunderstand me; his power is dependent on the weakness of other humans. In the desire to simplify their lives, they have made them so much more complicated and in the vapid process of the wants of humanity, he has grabbed the reigns and taken control.

What a pity. Not that I feel sorry for any of them for I and my kind have evolved around their mess and benefitted from the lives of both the useless stragglers and occasionally, the evil, the rich and/or the powerful.

As I sink my fangs into a New York City drifter till he dangles as loosely and free as seaweed, I think these things and ponder the curious pain and existence of modern man.