April 15, 2021
Dear Diary,
Not to be a hypochondriac but . . . I might be losing control of my life. Or maybe it’s allergies from when I cleaned the attic the other day. Either way, stuff has been weird recently. I decided to write it down here since, well, I don’t want to sound silly. I’m getting pale. Not an “iron-deficient” or “sickly orphan” shade of pale, either. I’m becoming . . . translucent? The purpleish tinge of my veins is popping through my skin— and not the kind of popping vibe I look for when I wake up to do my makeup for Zoom tutorials, honestly. Maybe I’m just seeing things, or maybe this is like that one episode of the Smurfs where Lazy Smurf gets bitten by a fly, turns purple, and goes on a rampage. I hope it’s the former, because I’m freaking out here.
May 2, 2021
Dear Diary,
I got a little sidetracked. Huh. It looks like my last real entry about my social life here was about 12 years ago. To update you a bit— no, I did not marry my fifth-grade crush, Blake. In high school, he got a girl pregnant and then got mad when he realized he couldn’t customize the kid like it was a Sim, so . . . I guess I dodged a bullet there. I also got older, so now here I am in my second year of university. Rad. Unless you remember we’re in a global pandemic and it’s all online. And, well, the whole turning blue thing. Honestly, I’ve sort of forgotten how to write in a diary. Nobody ever reads these things, right?
May 5, 2021
Got sidetracked. Again. Maybe it’s Zoom fog, LOL. And all that homework. Does anyone even use “LOL” anymore? God, I am getting old. Kind of like you, Diary. You were in a dusty box alongside my aptly named childhood stuffed animal, Teddy. He’s not in the best shape, and there was a dying bat crawling around in the box, so I left him up there. Sorry, Ted. You’re still looking good though, Diary, despite my cringe-worthy fifth-grade handwriting. I, on the other hand . . . not so good. Been getting these awful migraines recently. Had to install blackout curtains. Strangely, the dark feels comforting.
June 7, 2021
Dear Diary,
Here’s the deal: I think I might have turned into a vampire somehow. I know that sounds absurd. And no, I’m not just listening to “Blood Bank” by Bon Iver too much, okay?
Over the past few months, I’ve become paler than ever. I can’t stand the sunlight. Food and drinks are unappealing. I justified it all for a time. After all, students get migraines. They get depressed. Who wouldn’t after staring at Zoom lectures on a screen all day? I haven’t been out much during the panorama either, which explains the whole translucent thing. But now, I just can’t deny it anymore.
It happened on Monday. There I was, chilling in my Zoom box. Suddenly, I was gone. I tried fiddling with the webcam. Nothing. But by then, I had realized: the mean mug (really, the mug has the words “one mean mug” on it in faded blue letters) was still in the frame, floating precariously over my cluttered desk. So now, I’m faced with the reality that I no longer have a reflection. And maybe not even a soul. Despite my pleas for understanding, the school has been unwilling to accommodate. They say “go fix your webcam” and “we won’t reward you for avoiding class” and “you can’t be a vampire, you’re not even sparkling.” What would I be avoiding, the rush hour traffic from my bed to my desk? This vampire thing sucks.
Signed,
A bloodthirsty student who just wants to graduate already.
