When I woke up today the first song that came on my shuffle was For Crying Out Loud by Meatloaf.

The one thing every bit of science fiction that was supposedly taking place in the future totally fucked up was the survival of Rock N Roll. 400 hundred years ago they only let classical survive into the future centuries.

That has nothing to do with Lisa however the song as I heard it took me back to those days with her.

I’m still a little surprised these days that a piece of music can open a doorway to the past as if it was happening now.

What caught me off guard today was the pain that I touched within the past as I cried a tear or two while thinking about the days we had and the days we lost and the day she died.

It’s been more than 4 centuries since I cried any tears over Lisa. In some way I was grateful that those tears fell this morning. Often when I look at my past it’s in a detached view that has no emotional connection. It’s just the facts of my life as a cold truth of my existence.

There’s nothing personal about the truth of my life, simply a collection of things true about me.

Lisa and I met when we were 8. We saw each other once a week for the next couple years and then lost touch until we were 13 and reconnected in a classroom at 9 am.

That day at lunch we found each other and she introduced me to some of her friends. This group of 8 young women felt as though they had been assigned to me as charges to watch over. To this day when I don’t have 8 women in my life to look after, I go looking for them.

This first group set a pattern for my life I’ve never tired of. I’m going to lie in the book and call them angels, however they were demon bitches born.

These girls fucked Motley Crue and KISS and a few other bands by the time they were 14. I often wondered if the 15 year old that Motley Crue once sang about was one of these girls I knew.

Even back then it bothered to me know these girls were having sex with older men and being used like live action fuck dolls for these sick perverts.

I could feel the pieces of their souls they were losing after each night of debauchery that had not one drop of real love in it. Every guy I ever saw one of them date was a total fucking waste of flesh only using them for the sex.

Then the waste of flesh would leave them and it was me who picked up the pieces and put them back together over and over again until I left town at 19. Lisa was the reason I left. She was the first to say “Why can’t I find a guy like you Solomon?”

It was when she said that I told her I’d fallen in love with her and asked her to give me a try as a boyfriend. She was sweet about turning me down. I held it together in the moment however that night I wanted to die for the first time in my life. I asked myself over and over what was wrong with me that Lisa didn’t want me.

I got angry and thankfully I was alone as I raged.

That rage covered the pain for about an hour before I broke down into tears and cried myself to sleep.

When I woke up the next day I’d decided I had to get out of town for a few years. The thought of being around Lisa after that rejection and watching her fuck her life up with douche bag after douche bag was a front row seat I had grown tired of sitting in.

When I came back to visit, I saw I was right to leave. The pattern continued until the day she died. By the time she was 24 she had no soul left in there and was more or less an empty shell filled with every kind of emotional sickness that had been fucked into her since she was 13.

I moved back to town when I was 26. We never saw each other that often, however on rare occasion I would see that sparkle in her eye and had hoped something of her was still alive in there. Back then I still had no idea of the vampire I am. Had I known then I would have known that sparkle was me and what I do with energy.

The one thing I never admitted to anyone was that until the day she died I held out hope that one day she would see me as an option and I could love her the way I had always wanted to. Even centuries later as I write in this journal I can feel that fools hope come alive again.

She may have been a demon bitch, but I love her still even if it is only in memory.

Good bye Lisa and I truly hope that in death you found the peace and joy you could never find in life. I have missed you for centuries and now I allow myself to heal from your wounds that I carried in my memories of you for far too long.

Now I can write about Lisa from a detached place when I write the book.

Who’s next?

Who else has my heart held onto for far too long?