Uncomfortable Revelations

I'm sitting in my bedroom under the glow of the Christmas lights that hang from my ceiling. It is one thirty in the morning in the middle of July, but it could be ten-thirty at night at the beginning of January. The lights seem to freeze time. Perhaps that's why I turn them on when I wish time would stop. Or maybe run backwards.

I'm wondering what kind of person I am, what kind of person I truly am. It seems like an odd question to be asking at one-thirty in the morning, but what the hell. I need to ask myself sometime, don't I?

I think the problem is that I already know my answer.

I am, and always have been, a selfish, spiteful, manipulative person. I worm my way into people's hearts, use them, and cast them aside when I feel I've had my fun. I am a living, breathing vampire, nothing more. It reminds me of Marissa, and the irony is not lost on me.

After all, we hate most in others what we see most strongly in ourselves.