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23 Feb, 2005
I am recovering this evening from a rather hellish vamp-out this morning. This
is hard for me to talk about, even online, but I want people to know how bad
things can get sometimes.
My need had been building for some time, and this morning it became more than
I could bear. I was to the point where I was literally on the floor, writhing
in agony, screaming and growling, trying to fight it. I could not think,
I could not talk, I could not get up; I was at the mercy of the thirst/hunger/oh-so-intense
need beyond all rational comprehension. I do not like to talk about these
things because 1.) they scare me, 2.) I do not like being totally at the
mercy of forces out of my control, and 3.) I detest acknowledging that
I am or was ...vulnerable in that way, out of control and at the mercy
of these forces/the need. Starving animals have it better than that; starving
animals have more pride.
I lost all and I about lost my mind; I was not a rational, thinking, comprehending
human being. Think of souls writhing in Hell, or something similar, unable to
do anything about it. I could not even get up to go feed from myself which I
knew I had to do if this was going to be alleviated, for the longest time. I
was wracked with agonizing cramps and mental anguish and desperate need. Squirming
and growling and writhing and gnashing my teeth and crying out involuntarily
and inhuman sounds I cannot describe until my throat hurt and I could not squeal
hard enough to make it go away. I was not human, but only a beast. What I describe,
the words are pitifully inadequate to capture the intensity and scope of what
I was going through.
Finally, my body became exhausted enough that it could not continue fighting
(even though I was still being wracked), and I just lay there on the floor in
the door to my bedroom where I had collapsed, panting and growling and glaring,
and envisioning blood, blood-drenched scenes, blood, blood, blood...
This was not going to pass on its own. Once I recovered enough to move, I managed
to make my way into the bathroom to get a lancet, but that was not enough so
I fetched out a razor and cut the back of my wrist (my usual self-feeding spot
when I break down in times this bad and have pride stripped from me to the point
where I don't care that I have had it stripped away...) -- several times (not
deep, but longish knicks which bled well) and fed until I could stop, but continued
to feed until the bleeding finally stopped and I felt sentient again, less monstrous...
After which, I was able to walk into my bedroom like an intelligent, self-respecting
bipedal creature and collapse onto my bed feeling infinitely better and with
a sense of well-being. I slept.
Tonight, I feel the need again, but though it is intense, it is manageable.
At least at this point. Let us hope and pray that it does not get worse before
it gets better...
As an added note... How I feel tonight is only slightly worse than how I usually
feel, having not a donor or donors and being unwilling to execute any of the
techniques I know of to get blood, hehhh, shall we say, unethically, and leave
it at that... Things do not often get as bad for me as described above, mercifully,
but when they do, I am reduced to a thing, not a person. I do not advocate feeding
from one's self, but if it is necessary in extreme circumstances to prevent
worse things from happening, then I will do what needs to be done. If I do snap,
I do not know what things I would do...I wish to avoid getting to that point
and finding out...
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article are entirely those of the author(s), and may not necessarily
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